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37422	----	To H. T. Swedenberg, Junior _founder_, _protector_, _friend_ [Illustration: _He that delights to_ Plant _and_ Set, _Makes_ After-Ages _in his_ Debt.] Where could they find another formed so fit, To poise, with solid sense, a sprightly wit? Were these both wanting, as they both abound, Where could so firm integrity be found? The verse and emblem are from George Wither, _A Collection of Emblems, Ancient and Modern_ (London, 1635), illustration xxxv, page 35. The lines of poetry (123-126) are from "To My Honoured Kinsman John Driden," in John Dryden, _The Works of John Dryden_, ed. Sir Walter Scott, rev. and corr. George Saintsbury (Edinburgh: William Patterson, 1885), xi, 78. THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY WILLIAM MOUNTFORT The LIFE and DEATH of _Doctor Faustus_ Made into a FARCE (1697) _Introduction by_ ANTHONY KAUFMAN PUBLICATION NUMBER 157 WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES 1973 GENERAL EDITORS William E. Conway, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library George Robert Guffey, University of California, Los Angeles Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles David S. Rodes, University of California, Los Angeles ADVISORY EDITORS Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan James L. Clifford, Columbia University Ralph Cohen, University of Virginia Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago Louis A. Landa, Princeton University Earl Miner, Princeton University Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles Lawrence Clark Powell, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library James Sutherland, University College, London H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles Robert Vosper, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library Carl A. Zimansky, State University of Iowa CORRESPONDING SECRETARY Edna C. Davis, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library EDITORIAL ASSISTANT Jean T. Shebanek, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library Typography by Wm. M. Cheney INTRODUCTION According to "Some Account of the Life of Mr. W. Mountfort" prefixed to the collected plays of 1720, William Mountfort, successful playwright and actor, was born "the Son of Captain _Mountfort_, a Gentleman of a good Family in _Staffordshire_; and he spent the greatest Part of his Younger Years in that County, without being bred up to any Employment." Since "his Gaiety of Temper and Airy Disposition ... could not be easily restrain'd to the solitary Amusements of a Rural Life,"[1] he set out to make his fortune in London, and was employed by the Duke's Company at the Dorset Garden Theater. First notice of him appears in the part of the "boy" in _The Counterfeits_, attributed to John Leanerd, and produced in May, 1678.[2] Mountfort was to win notice as an actor in the part of Talboy in Brome's _The Jovial Crew_, where as a rejected lover he was called upon for storms of comic tears. In his _Apology_, Cibber praises Mountfort in this part: "in his Youth, he had acted Low Humour, with great Success, even down to _Tallboy_ in the _Jovial Crew_"[3] and Mountfort himself alluded to his early success in the prologue to his first play, _The Injured Lovers_, where he defies the critics: "True Talboy to the last I'll Cry and Write." Mountfort scored his first major success as an actor when he played the title role in Crowne's _Sir Courtly Nice_. The play's popularity owed much to Mountfort's acting of a part which recalls Etherege's Sir Fopling Flutter. The "Account" of 1720 says that Mountfort "gain'd a great and deserved Reputation, as a Player; particularly in Acting the part of Sir _Courtly Nice_," and Cibber, who was later to create the great Sir Novelty Fashion, says of Mountfort's Sir Courtly: There his whole Man, Voice, Mien, and Gesture, was no longer _Monfort_, but another Person. There, the insipid, soft Civility, the elegant, and formal Mien; the drawling delicacy of Voice, the stately Flatness of his Address, and the empty Eminence of his Attitudes were ... nicely observ'd.... If, some Years after the Death of _Monfort_, I my self had any Success, in either of these Characters, I must pay the Debt I owe to his Memory, in confessing the Advantages I receiv'd from the just Idea, and strong Impression he had given me, from his action them (_Apology_, p. 76). In 1686, Mountfort married one of the attractive young actresses then appearing in London, Susanna Percival, and the Mountforts appeared together in a number of plays until his untimely death. Mountfort brought his first play, _The Injured Lovers_: or, _The Ambitious Father_, a tragedy, to be acted at Drury Lane early in February, 1688. The play was not a great success. Gildon mentions that it "did not succeed as the Author wish'd,"[4] although the play was brilliantly cast, with Betterton, Mrs. Bracegirdle, and Mrs. Barry in chief parts. Mountfort himself played second lead to Betterton, and the comedians Leigh, Jevon, and Underhill appeared in boisterous roles. But this rather extravagant account of passion and thwarted love did not take. Such lines as the heroine's "Thy _Antelina_, she shall be the Pile On which I'll burn, and as I burn I'll smile," reveals an uncertain poetic talent. In the prologue Mountfort manages more wit: JO. _Hayne's Fate is now become my Share, For I'm a Poet, Marry'd, and a Player: The greatest of these Curses is the First; As for the latter Two, I know the worst ..._ And of the play's fate: _Damn it who will, Damn me, I'll write again; Clap down each Thought, nay, more than I can think, Ruin my Family in Pen and Ink. And tho' my Heart should burst to see your Spite, True Talboy to the last, I'll Cry and Write...._ Unsuccessful at tragedy, Mountfort moved to surer ground, and if tragedy did not sell on the market of the 1680's, farce was surefire. Mountfort's _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus, Made into a Farce ... with the Humours of Harlequin and Scaramouche_, is a most interesting example of Restoration farce. The Queen's Theater in Dorset Garden was well-fitted for stage spectacle and effect, and Mountfort took advantage of his knowledge of the stage and the contemporary audience to produce an amusing and popular hit. The play was revived in 1697, five years after Mountfort's death, and again in 1724, at a time when, as Borgman tells us (p. 39), _The Injured Lovers_ had been long forgotten. Mountfort continued his acting career with great success; he was one of twenty-two men and six women who, on 12 January 1688, were given the position of "Comoedians in Ordinary" to King James, and he acted in a variety of plays, including Shadwell's _The Squire of Alsatia_, in May, 1688, and _Bury Fair_, in April, 1689. In Dryden's _Don Sebastian_, produced in December, 1689, he played the young and noble Don Antonio, described as "the wittiest Woman's toy in Portugal." Although Mountfort was best known for comic roles, he scored a success as Alexander in Nathaniel Lee's _The Rival Queens_, January, 1690. Cibber says of his Alexander: In Tragedy he was the most affecting Lover within my Memory. His Addresses had a resistless Recommendation from the very Tone of his Voice ... All this he particularly verify'd in that Scene of _Alexander_, where the Heroe throws himself at the Feet of _Statira_ for Pardon of his past Infidelities. There we saw the Great, the Tender, the Penitent, the Despairing, the Transported, and the Amiable, in the highest Perfection (_Apology_, pp. 74-75). Mountfort's third play was acted in January, 1690, although it may have been produced as early as December of the previous year. _The Successful Strangers_, a tragi-comedy, was based on a novel by Scarron, _The Rival Brothers_. In his Preface, Mountfort confesses, "_I am no Scholar, which renders me incapable of stealing from Greek and Latin Authors, as the better Learned have done_". The play was a success; its combination of comedy and tragedy appealed to the town, and it was revived several times in the early eighteenth century. As Borgman notes (p. 80), Mountfort's acting career peaked in the season of 1690-1691, when he acted nine new roles, eight of which were leads. He also prepared a comedy of his own, _Greenwich Park_, and assisted in the writing or preparation of three other plays. He assisted Settle with _Distress'd Innocence_, and his name is linked with two plays by John Bancroft, _Edward III_ and _Henry the Second_, although his contribution here, if any, is uncertain. The publishers of the collected plays of 1720 note that "we have annex'd, _King Edward the Third_, and _Henry the Second_; which tho' not wholly composed by him, it is presum'd he had, at least, a Share in fitting them for the Stage, otherwise it cannot be supposed he would have taken the Liberty of Writing Dedications to them." Borgman says of these plays that Mountfort "doubtless scanned the script with a critical eye and made such changes as would seem necessary to an experienced man of the theater" (p. 90). In _Greenwich Park_, Mountfort scored his greatest success. The comedy is a hilarious mixture of the comedy of manners, humours, and farce. The prologue sounds the dominant motif of the play, that of satiric and energetic sex-intrigue: "At Greenwich lies the Scene, where many a Lass Has bin Green-gown'd upon the tender Grass." The play hits wittily at fortune-hunters, cits, and old fellows who attempt to ignore their age. There is heavy reference to the contemporary London scene. The comedy was produced in April, 1691, with great success; Gildon says of it: "a very pretty Comedy, and has been always received with general Applause" (_Lives and Characters_, p. 102). The gay and witty Florella was played by Mrs. Mountfort--who played a part very much like that in which she was so successful previously, Sir Anthony Love. Mrs. Barry played the passionate Dorinda, a promiscuous and mercenary woman who, at one point in the play, cries out in the best tradition of sentimental comedy: "Oh what a Curse 'tis, when for filthy Gain We affect a Pleasure in a real Pain." Sir Thomas Reveller, the heavy but comic father, was played by Leigh; Nokes and Underhill played comic cits, and Mountfort himself played opposite his wife as Young Reveller. The play was revived repeatedly, and remains a delightful work. Mountfort's best part of his last year came in December, 1691, when he played the hilarious lout, Mr. Friendall, of Southerne's _The Wives' Excuse_. The play is good comedy, but quite serious, as Southerne focuses on the distress of an intelligent, sensitive woman, saddled with a foolish husband who is the perfect representative of a frivolous and malicious society. On Friday, 2 December 1692, Mountford acted what must have been his final role, Alexander in _The Rival Queens_. * * * * * Mountfort's life ended at the height of his fame, in the most spectacular and dramatic murder of its time. The notorious Lord Mohun, then age fifteen, frequented the playhouse in 1692, often in the company of Captain Richard Hill, age twenty. Hill hoped to win the affections of Anne Bracegirdle, known not only for her beauty and acting ability, but also for her chastity--supposedly a scarce virtue among the actresses of the time. In _A Comparison between the Two Stages_, the following dialogue takes place: _Sullen_: But does that _Romantick Virgin_ [Bracegirdle] still keep up her great Reputation? _Critick_: D'ye mean her Reputation for Acting? _Sullen_: I mean her Reputation for not acting; you understand me--....[5] Hill, making no headway with Mrs. Bracegirdle, concluded that she was in fact interested in Mountfort; they had often appeared on the stage together. More than once Hill was heard to utter threats against the actor, although Mohun was apparently on friendly terms with Mountfort Hill, determined to abduct the actress, persuaded Mohun to be his accomplice. They set Friday, 9 December 1692, as the date, and about ten o'clock in the evening, accompanied by some soldiers under Hill's command, they ambushed Mrs. Bracegirdle, her mother and her brother, Hamlet Bracegirdle, along with a man named Page, in Drury Lane. The actress's mother and Mr. Page fended the villains off for a time, in a moment a crowd gathered, and the would-be kidnappers saw that their plan was useless. Hill escorted the actress home and after having muttered a threat at Mr. Page proceeded to pace up and down outside their door. Approximately an hour and a half later, Mountfort appeared in Howard Street--apparently intent on confronting Hill and Mohun. Mohun greeted the actor courteously and asked if he had been sent for. Mountfort professed that he did not know anything of the business at hand, that he had come there by chance, adding that Mrs. Bracegirdle was no concern of his. What happened then happened fast and the witnesses disagree (see Borgman, pp. 135ff). It would seem, however, that Hill first struck the actor, then quickly drew and ran him through before Mountfort could draw. On his deathbed, traditionally the locale for truth-telling, Mountfort reported that "_My Lord Mohun offered me no Violence, but whilst I was talking with my Lord Mohun, Hill struck me with his Left Hand, and with his Right Hand run me through, before I could put my Hand to my Sword_" (Borgman, p. 140). It would seem clear that Hill gave the actor his deathblow and then, while the cry of murder was raised, escaped into the night. Mountfort, fatally wounded, staggered toward his own home in the next street. As Mrs. Mountfort opened the door, her husband fell bleeding into her arms; at one o'clock in the afternoon of the next day, he died. According to the "Account," he was to have played Bussy D'Ambois that night--Marlowe's tragedy of a young man who meets his death through assassination. Although Hill made good his escape, Lord Mohun stood trial in Westminster before his peers. Mohun's defense was simply that he was not privy to Hill's design and did not assist and encourage him in it. The lords, having heard the evidence, retired, and the next day, Saturday, 5 February, acquitted Mohun of wrongdoing by a vote of 69-14. The prisoner was discharged. The United Company found themselves seriously hampered by the death of Mountfort, and even more so when fifteen days later the great comedian Anthony Leigh died. The "Account" says that Mountfort's death "had so great an Affect on his Dear Companion, Mr. LEE the Comedian, that he did not survive him above the space of a Week." The Company delayed the opening of a new play by one William Congreve, _The Old Bachelor_. But when that smash hit finally came on the boards in March 1693, Susanna Mountfort played the gay évaporée, Belinda, to great applause. And on 31 January 1694, she married the actor John Verbruggen. The rather mysterious Anne Bracegirdle, for whom Mountfort had been killed, played female leads in all of Congreve's plays, and just as the public had once speculated on her relationship to Mountfort, they now speculated on her relationship to Congreve. Although farce was popular with London audiences during the Restoration, there was considerable controversy as to what it was and what it was worth. In a period in which the canon of English literary criticism was being formed, farce illustrates the disparity between received classical principles and the playwright's actual craft. Dryden, who himself "stooped" to writing farce, nonetheless sneers in his preface to _An Evening's Love, or The Mock-Astrologer_ [1671]: Farce ... consists principally of grimaces ... Comedy consists, though of low persons, yet of natural actions and characters; I mean such humours, adventures, and designs, as are to be found and met with in the world. Farce, on the other side, consists of forced humours, and unnatural events. Comedy presents us with the imperfections of human nature: Farce entertains us with what is monstrous and chimerical.[6] Farce was theoretically unpopular because it relied on the extravagant and unnatural, as opposed to the play of real character found in comedy. And whereas in seventeenth-century comedy the avowed intention is usually to expose and thus to reform the vices and follies of the age, farce uses the grossly physical to draw a laugh; there is nothing to be learned from the slapstick and pigsbladder. Though sneered at by theorists and subject to endless abuse in the prologues and epilogues of the day, farce continued as pleasing to Restoration audiences as it is today. James Sutherland notes that shrewd actor-playwrights such as Mountfort, Betterton, Underhill, Jevon, Dogget, Powell--men who knew intimately the tastes of the town, chose to write farce.[7] Tate's _A Duke and No Duke_, Aphra Behn's _The Emperor of the Moon_, and Jevon's _The Devil of a Wife_, were among the most popular offerings, and although the Restoration wit may have gone to "Dr. Faustus" with a certain sense of intellectual slumming, he did continue to support quite generously the _farceurs_ of that time. Moreover, farcical elements appear regularly in the supposedly elegant and artificial Restoration comedy of manners. "Dr. Faustus" is a highly competent putting-together of those components which the experienced actor-playwright knew to be surefire. The date of its premier production is not known and has been assigned to a date as early as 1684 and as late as 1688. The farce was not published until the quarto of 1697, which appeared without cast-list, prologue, or epilogue.[8] The title page, however, states that the farce was acted at Dorset Garden "several times," by "Lee" (Anthony Leigh) and Jevon, and, as the editor of _The London Stage_ points out, since Jevon died in December of 1688, the premiere was probably no later than the season of 1687-1688.[9] Borgman maintains that "Dr. Faustus" is Mountfort's second work, after _The Injured Lovers_ of February, 1688, noting that the epilogue to that play, spoken by Jevon, suggests that Mountfort was planning, or had written, a farce: _Pardon but this, and I will pawn my life, His next shall match my Devil of a Wife, We'll grace it with the Imbellishment of Song and Dance; We'll have the Monsieur once again from _France_, With's Hoop and Glasses, and when that is done, He shall divert you with his Riggadoon._ We might guess, then, that if the epilogue does refer to "Dr. Faustus," the date of that play is as late as the Spring of 1688. Mountfort took as his raw material Marlowe's great tragedy and for that reason "Dr. Faustus" may be to some extent thought of as a burlesque. The Restoration audience delighted in Marlowe's Faustus; the Elizabethan tragedy had been played in 1662, and there was a performance at the Duke's Theater in September, 1675. Edward Phillips wrote in his _Theatrum Poetarum_, that "of all that [Marlowe] hath written to the Stage his Dr. _Faustus_ hath made the greatest noise with its Devils and such like Tragical sport."[10] Here lies the suggestion that Mountfort was to take up, for as Borgman notes, Marlowe's tragedy has two distinct lines: the mighty verse which makes up the tragedy of an heroic overreacher, and a comic line of farcical _lazzi_. Mountfort has trimmed away the poetry of Marlowe and, for the most part, retained the farcical elements of the earlier play.[11] Mountfort keeps the compact with Mephostopholis, the appearance of good and bad angels, the visit of Lucifer and Beelzebub, the pageant of the seven deadly sins, the cheating of the horse-courser, the admonitions of the Old Man, the summoning of the spirits of Alexander and Darius, the tricking of Benvolio, the final moments of remorse before Faustus is dragged down to hell, and finally, the discovery of Faustus's limbs in his study. Mountfort's purpose, as Borgman notes, was not to convert an Elizabethan tragedy into a Restoration one, but to affix additional farcical materials to a work that already contained scenes of slapstick. Mountfort's unique contribution to his source was the introduction of the _commedia dell'arte_ figures which had become well-known to London theatergoers because of several visits to London by Italian actors since the Restoration. Probably, as Borgman notes (p. 36), the first Englishmen to play Scaramouche and Harlequin were Griffin and Haynes who had in 1677 appeared with the King's Company in Ravenscroft's _Scaramouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a School-Boy, Bravo, Merchant, and Magician_. When Aphra Behn's _The Emperor of the Moon_ appeared in March, 1687, Leigh played Scaramouche and Harlequin was taken by Jevon. It seems probable that in order that these two actors might have a further opportunity to appear as these popular characters, a place was found for Scaramouche and Harlequin in Mountfort's farce. The text of Mountfort's "Dr. Faustus" reveals that his farce, like any, must depend to a great extent on its _farceurs_. In Jevon and Leigh he had talented players and much of the script can be regarded merely as an improvisational chart allowing the two famed comics to maneuver. Jevon, as Leo Hughes points out, built up a considerable reputation, chiefly in low comedy roles since his first notice as Osric in a revival of Hamlet in 1673.[12] Having a slight, thin figure, he was noted for his grace of movement and agility on the stage; he played Harlequin. Although Jevon could play such straight roles as Young Bellair in _The Man of Mode_, he, along with Nokes, Underhill, and Leigh, made his reputation in the boisterous farce of which "Dr. Faustus" is an excellent example. Anthony Leigh played Scaramouche. Of his acting Cibber says: In Humour, he lov'd to take a full Career, but was careful enough to stop short, when just upon the Precipice: He had great Variety, in his manner, and was famous in very different Characters.... But no wonder _Leigh_ arriv'd to such Fame, in what was so completely written for him; when Characters that would make the Reader yawn, in the Closet, have by the Strength of his Action, been lifted into the lowdest Laughter, on the Stage (_Apology_, p. 85-86). That Jevon and Leigh played well together is evident, and one can see great possibilities in their improvisation of such _lazzi_ as the episode of the "dead body," Act I, Scene i, or in the elaborate show of compliment which ends the first act. The presence of Scaramouche and Harlequin in Mountfort's adaptation suggests the influence of the Italian and French _commedia_ on the Restoration stage, although, as Leo Hughes points out, the native tradition of farce is paramount (pp. 134-141). Hughes notes that although the _commedia_ influence is obvious, Italian farce is different in style from the English, and that although there were four or five tours by _commedia_ troops between 1660 and 1700, these visits were not enough to influence significantly English farce writing. Furthermore, the Italian's art was improvisational--they used no printed texts, and the English would therefore have even less chance to copy from the _commedia_. Readers of "Dr. Faustus" will find little trace of _commedia_ influence apart from the conventional names. Hughes acknowledges (p. 141) the greater influence of the French stage in the Restoration, owing chiefly to the great popularity of Molière, whose influence on farce, especially on the afterpiece which became a staple on the English stage after 1695, was long-lived. His prestige was great; he appealed to English taste, and such characters as M. Jourdain, M. Pourceaugnac, and Sganarelle appear repeatedly in English adaptations. The action of farce is typically a string of blow-ups, stage business highly dependent on fast pacing. Characteristically on the English stage there is a great deal of stage-effect; "Dr. Faustus," produced at the Dorset Garden Theater where farce was often produced in order to take advantage of the elaborate stage machinery available there, makes use of rising tables, a giant which divides in two, good and bad angels which rise and descend, fireworks, a vanishing feast, a view of hell, and even more. Indeed, the often hilarious stage directions give us good insight into the capabilities of the Restoration stage. The finale is typical: "_Scene discovers Faustus's Limbs_." After the Old Man piously hopes that this "May ... a fair Example be to all, To avoid such Ways which brought poor Faustus's Fall," the "_Scene changes to Hell. Faustus Limbs come together. A Dance, and Song._" Farce often verges on satire, and, as he was to demonstrate in _Greenwich Park_, Mountfort had an eye for contemporary foibles. At the end of Act I, Harlequin and Scaramouche engage in dialogue which suggests similar passages of rough satire in Wycherley. Asked what practice his master, a doctor, has, Harlequin replies: Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores against the Term for Country Lawyers, and Attorneys Clerks; and against _Christmas_, _Easter_ and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices; and if his Pills [to cure clap] be destroy'd, 'twill ruin him in one Term. Mountford altered the pageant of the seven sins that he found in Marlowe, changing it in at least one case to bring it up to date. He begins by paraphrasing Marlowe: _Faustus_: What art thou the Third? _Envy_: I am _Envy_; begot by a Chimny-sweeper upon an Oyster-wench. I cannot read, and wish all Books burnt. But then Mountford departs from his source, adding the following lines: I always curst the Governement, that I was not prefer'd; and was a Male-content in Three Kings Reigns (II, i). The three kings are, I suppose, Charles I, Charles II, and James II, and the satiric jab is against those who perennially oppose the Establishment. Furthermore, it is easy to imagine that the role of Faustus, whoever played it, could well have been acted as a parody of the "tragical" acting style of the day, with its curious sing-song tone and stylized gestures. Mountfort's "Dr. Faustus" gives us an often amusing insight into that much despised, ever-popular bastard-child of the Restoration stage: farce. If the direct influence of the _commedia_ is slight, the spirit of improvisational comedy is embodied in the inspired buffoonery of Leigh and Jevon, reinforced by stage-effect and spots of contemporary satire. The play proved a hit and that undoubtedly was the playwright's sole intention. The farce is workmanlike, and as the "Account" prefixed to the 1720 collected plays observes, "THE Life and Death of Doctor _FAUSTUS_ has a great deal of low, but Entertaining Humour; it sufficiently shews his Talents that way." University of Illinois Urbana NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION 1. _Six Plays, written by Mr. Mountfort_ (London, 1720), 2 volumes. All references to plays other than "Dr. Faustus" are taken from this collection. 2. The substance of my account of Mountfort's life and work is based on Albert S. Borgman, _The Life and Death of William Mountfort_ (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1935). 3. _An Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber_, ed. B. R. S. Fone (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1968), p. 117. 4. Charles Gildon, _The Lives and Characters of the English Dramatick Poets_ (London, [1698?]), p. 102. 5. (London, 1702), p. 17. 6. _Essays of John Dryden_, ed. W. P. Ker (New York: Russell & Russell, 1900; rpt. 1961), I, 135-136. 7. _English Literature of the Late Seventeenth Century_ (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), p. 132. 8. The first edition, page 5, omits the period at the end of 1. 23 and the speech prefix "Meph." for 1. 24. These are correctly added in the second edition (1720). 9. _The London Stage 1660-1800, Part I: 1660-1700_, ed. W. Van Lennep (Carbondale, Ill.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1965), 342. 10. (London, 1675), p. 25. 11. Borgman outlines the changes Mountfort made in his source; see pp. 35ff and Appendix A. 12. _A Century of English Farce_ (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956), pp. 165-166. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE The facsimile of Mountfort's _The Life and Death of Doctor Faustus_ (1697) is reproduced by permission from a copy of the first edition (Shelf Mark: 131909) in _The Huntington Library, San Marino, California_. The total type-page (p. 17) measures 195 X 112 mm. THE LIFE and DEATH OF Doctor Faustus, Made into a FARCE. By Mr. _MOUNTFORD_. _First Edition_ WITH THE Humours of _Harlequin_ and _Scaramouche_: As they were several times Acted By Mr. _LEE_ and Mr. _JEVON_, AT THE Queens Theatre in _Dorset_ Garden. Newly Revived, At the Theatre in _Lincolns Inn Fields_, With _Songs_ and _Dances_ between the ACTS. _LONDON_, Printed and sold by _E. Whitlock_ near _Stationers_ Hall, (1697) The Life and Death of Dr. FAUSTUS. ACT I. SCENE I. _Dr._ Faustus _seated in his Chair, and reading in his Study_. _Good and bad Angel ready._ _Faust._ Settle thy Study, _Faustus_, and begin To sound the Depth of that thou wilt profess; These Metaphysicks of Magicians, And Negromantick Books, are heav'nly Lines, Circles, Letters, Characters, Ay, these are those that _Faustus_ most desires; A sound Magician is a Demi-God: Here tire my Brains to get a Deity. Mephostopholis _under the Stage_. _A good and bad Angel fly down._ _Good Ang._ O _Faustus_! lay that damn'd Book aside; And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy heart to blasphemy. _Bad Ang._ Go forward, _Faustus_, in that famous Art Wherein all Natures Treasure is contain'd: Be thou on Earth as _Jove_ is in the Sky, Lord and Commander of these Elements. _Spirits ascend._ _Faust._ How am I glutted with conceit of this? Shall I make Spirits fetch me what I please? I'll have 'em fly to _India_ for Gold, Ransack the Ocean for Orient Pearl. I'll have 'em Wall all _Germany_ with Brass: I'll levy Soldiers with the Coin they bring, And chase the Prince of _Parma_ from our Land. [_Rises._ 'Tis now the Dead nigh Noon of Night, And _Lucifer_ his Spirits freedom gives; I'll try if in this Circle I can Raise A _Dæmon_ to inform me what I long for. _Sint mihi Dii Acherontis propitii, Orientis Princeps, Beelzebub, German. Demogorgon._ [Thunders. _Mephostopholis, Mephostopholis, surgat Spiritus._ Mephostopholis _speaks under Ground_. [Thunders. _Meph._ _Faustus_, I attend thy Will. _Faust._ Where art thou? _Meph._ Here. [_a Flash of Light._ _Scar. within._ Oh, oh, oh. _Faust._ What Noise is that? Hast thou any Companions with thee? _Meph._ No. _Faust._ It comes this way? _Scar._ Oh, oh, O----. [_Enter_ Scaramouche. _Faust._ What ail'st thou? _Scar._ O' o' o' _Faust._ Speak, Fellow, what's the Matter? _Scar._ O poor _Scaramouche_! _Faust._ Speak, I conjure thee; or _Acherontis Dii Demogorgon_.---- _Scar._ O I beseech you Conjure no more, for I am frighted into a _Diabetes_ already. _Faust._ Frighted at what? _Scar._ I have seen, Oh, oh---- _Faust._ What? _Scar._ The Devil. _Faust._ Art sure it was the Devil? _Scar._ The Devil, or the Devil's Companion: He had a Head like a Bulls, with Horns on; and two Eyes that glow'd like the Balls of a dark Lantern: His Hair stood a Tiptoe, like your new-fashion'd Top-knots; with a Mouth as large as a King's Beef Eater: His Nails was as sharp as a Welshman's in Passion; and he look'd as frightful as a Sergeant to an _Alsatian_. _Faust._ But why art thou afraid of the Devil? _Scar._ Why I never said my Prayers in all my Life, but once; and that was when my damn'd Wife was sick, that she might dye: My Ears are as deaf to good Council, as _French_ Dragoons are to Mercy. And my Conscience wants as much sweeping as a Cook's Chimny. And I have as many Sins to answer for as a Church-warden, or an Overseer of the Poor. _Faust._ Why, the Devil loves Sinners at his Heart. _Scar._ Does he so? _Faust._ He hates none, but the Vertuous, and the Godly. Such as Fast, and go to Church, and give Alms-deeds. _Scar._ I never saw a Church in my Life, thank God, (I mean the Devil;) and for Fasting, it was always my Abomination; and for Alms, I never gave any Thing in my Life, but the Itch once to a Pawn-broker. Therefore I hope he may Love me. _Faust._ And he shall Love thee; I'll bring thee acquainted with him. _Scar._ Acquainted with the Devil? _Faust._ Ay; _Tanto metropontis Acherontis_. _Scar._ Oh, oh, oh. _Faust._ Fear nothing _Mephostopholis_, be visible. [Scaramouche _sinks behind the Doctor, and peeps his Head out behind the Slip of his Gown._ _A Devil rises in Thunder and Lightning._ I charge thee to be gon, and change thy Shape; thou art too ugly to attend on me. I find there's Virtue in my Charm; Come, rise up, Fool, the Devil's gon. [_The Devil sinks._ _Scar._ The Devil go with him. _Faust._ Fear nothing, I command the Devil. If thou wilt leave thy Chimny-sweeping Trade, and live with me, thou shalt have Meat and Drink in Plenty; and 40 Crowns a Year shall be thy Wages; I'll make thee Learned in the black Art. _Scar._ I am a Student in that already: But let me consider, Good Meat and Drink, and 40 Crowns a Year. Then I'll change my black Art for yours. _Faust._ There's Earnest, thou art now my Servant; dispose of thy Brooms and Poles, they'll be useless to thee here; take this Key, go into my Study, and clean; take all the Books you find scatter'd about, and range 'em orderly upon the Shelves. _Scar._ Happy _Scaramouche_, now may'st thou Swear, Lye, Steal, Drink and Whore; for thy Master is the Devil's Master, and thou in time may'st master 'em both. [_Exit_ Scaram. _Enter_ Mephostopholis. _Meph._ Now, _Faustus_, what wouldst thou have with me? _Faust._ I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, And do what-ever _Faustus_ shall command. _Meph._ Ay _Faustus_, so I will, if thou wilt purchase me of _Lucifer_. _Faust._ What says _Lucifer_, thy Lord? _Meph._ That I shall Wait on _Faustus_ whilst he Lives, So thou wilt buy my Service with thy Blood. _Faust._ Already _Faustus_ has hazarded that for thee. _Meph._ Ay, but thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a Deed of Gift with it; For that Security craves _Lucifer_. If thou deny it, I must back to Hell. _Bad Ang._ But _Faustus_, if I shall have thy Soul, I'll be thy Slave, and worship thy Commands, And give thee more than thou hast Will of. _Faust._ If he wilt spare me Four and twenty Years, Letting me Live in all Voluptuousness, To have thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, And tell me whatsoever I demand; On these Conditions I resign it to him. _Meph._ Then, _Faustus_ stab thy Arm couragiously, And bind thy Soul, that at some certain Day Great _Lucifer_ may claim it as his own; And then be thou as Great as _Lucifer_. _Faust._ Lo, _Mephostopholis_, for Love of thee, _Faustus_ has cut His Arm, and with his proper Blood Assures his Soul to be great _Lucifers_. _Meph._ But, _Faustus_, write it in manner of a Deed, and Gift. _Faust._ Ay, so I do; but, _Mephostopholis_, my Blood congeals, and I can write no more. _Meph._ I'll fetch thee Fire to dissolve it streight. [_Exit._ _Faust._ What might the staying of my Blood portend, It is unwilling I should write this Bill. _Good and Bad Angel descend._ _Good An._ Yet, _Faustus_, think upon thy precious Soul. _Bad An._ No, _Faustus_, think of Honour, and of Wealth. _Faust._ Of Wealth. Why all the _Indies_, _Ganges_, shall be mine. _Good An._ No, _Faustus_, everlasting Tortures shall be thine. _Bad An._ No, _Faustus_, everlasting Glory shall be thine. The World shall raise a Statue of thy Name, And on it write, This, this is he that could command the World. [_Good Angel ascends, bad Angel descends._ _Faust._ Command the World; Ay, _Faustus_, think on that, Why streams not then my Blood that I may write? _Faustus_ gives to thee his Soul; Oh! there it stops. Why shouldst thou not? Is not thy Soul thy own? _Enter_ Mephostopholis _with a Chafer of Fire_. _Meph._ See, _Faustus_, here is Fire, set it on. _Faust._ So now the Blood begins to clear again. _Meph._ What is't I would not do to obtain his Soul? _Faust._ _Consummatum est_; the Bill is ended. But what is this Inscription on my Arm? _Homo fuge_: Whether shall I fly? My Senses are deceiv'd, here's nothing writ; O yes, I see it plain, even here is writ _Homo fuge_; yet shall not _Faustus_ fly, I'll call up something to delight his Mind. [_Song._ Mephostopholis _waves his Wand_. _Enter several Devils, who present Crowns to_ Faustus, _and after a Dance vanish_. _Faust._ What means this then? _Meph._ 'Tis to delight thy Mind, and let thee see What Magick can perform. _Faust._ And may I raise such Spirits when I please. _Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, and do greater Things than these. _Faust._ Then, _Mephostopholis_ receive this Deed of Gift; But set Conditionally, that thou perform all Covenants and Articles herein subscribed. _Meph._ I swear by Hell, and _Lucifer_, to effect all Promises between us both. _Faust._ Then take it. _Meph._ Do you deliver it as your Deed, and Gift? _Faust._ Ay, and the Devil do you good on't. _Meph._ So, now, _Faustus_, ask what thou wilt. _Faust._ Then let me have a Wife. Faustus _waves his Wand, and a Woman Devil rises: Fire-works about whirles round, and sinks_. _Faust._ What sight is this? _Meph._ Now, _Faustus_ wilt thou have a Wife? _Faust._ Here's a hot Whore indeed, I'll have no Wife. _Meph._ Marriage is but a Ceremonial Toy; I'll cull thee out the fairest Curtezans, And bring 'em every Morning to thy Bed: She whom thy Eye shall like, thy Heart shall have. _Faust._ Then, _Mephostopholis_, let me behold the Famous _Hellen_, who was the Occasion of great _Troys'_ Destruction. _Meph._ _Faustus_, thou shalt. [_Waves his Wand, enters._ _Faust._ O _Mephostopholis_! what would I give to gain a Kiss from off those lovely Lips. _Meph._ _Faustus_, thou may'st. [_He kisses her._ _Faust._ My Soul is fled; come _Hellen_, come, give me my Soul again; she's gon. [_He goes to kiss her again, and she sinks._ _Meph._ Women are shy you know at the first Sight; but come, _Faustus_, command me somewhat else. _Faust._ Then tell me, is Hell so terrible as Church-men write it. _Meph._ No, _Faustus_ 'tis Glorious as the upper World; but that we have Night and Day, as you have here: Above there's no Night. _Faust._ Why sighs my _Mephostopholis_, I think Hell's a meer Fable. _Meph._ Ay, think so still. _Faust._ Tell me who made the World? _Meph._ I will not. _Faust._ Sweet _Mephos._ _Meph._ Move me no further. _Faust._ Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any Thing. _Meph._ That's not against our Kingdom, this is: Thou art Lost; think thou of Hell. _Faust._ Think, _Faustus_, upon him that made the World. _Meph._ Remember this. [_Sinks._ _Faust._ Ay, go accursed Spirit to ugly Hell, 'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed _Faustus_ Soul: I will Repent: Ha! [_Goes to his Books._ This Bible's fast, but here's another: [_They both fly out of's Hand, and a flaming Thing appears written_, &c. Is't not too late? [_Ring. Good and bad descend._ _Bad An._ Too late. _Good An._ Never too late, if _Faustus_ will repent. _Bad An._ _Faustus_, behold, behold thy Deed; if thou repent Devils will tear thee in Pieces. _Good An._ Repent, and they shall never raze thy Skin. [_Scene shuts, Ang. ascends._ _Scene changes to the Street._ _Enter_ Harlequin. _Harl._ This must be Mr. Doctor's House; I'll make bold to knock: My Heart fails me already. [Harlequin _opens the Door, peeps about, and shuts it_. I begin to tremble at the Thoughts of seeing the Devil. [_Knocks again._ Here's a great Resort of Devils, the very Doors smell of Brimstone: I'll e'en back----No: I'll be a Man of Resolution: But if Mr. Doctor should send a Familiar to open the Door, in what language should I speak to the Devil? [_Knocks._ _Enter_ Scaramouche. _Scar. peeping._ This is some malicious Spirit, that will not let me alone at my Study; but I'll go in, and conn my Book. [_Exit._ _Harl._ I believe Mr. Doctor is very Busy; but I'll rap this time with Authority. [Harlequin _raps at the Door_, Scaramouche _peeps out_. Harlequin _strikes him, and jumps back, runs frighted off_. _Scene changes to a Room in the Doctor's House._ _Enter_ Scaramouche, _with a Book in the Doctor's Gown_. _Scar._ I have left the Door open to save the Devil the labour of Knocking, if he has a mind to come in: For I am resolved not to stir from my Book; I found it in the Doctor's Closet, and know it must contain Something of the Black Art. _Enter_ Harlequin. _Harl._ Oh here's Mr. Doctor himself; he's reading some conjuring Book. _Ide fain jecit._ _Scar._ This must be a conjuring Book by the hard Words. AB, EB, IB, OB, UB, BA, BO, BU, BI. _Harl._ Its a Child's Primer. [Harlequin _looks over him_. _Scar._ The Devil, the Devil; be gon, avoid Satan. [_Runs off._ _Harl._ O the Devil! Now will I lye as if I were Dead, and let the Devil go hunt for my Soul. [_Lyes down._ _Enter_ Scaramouche. _Scar._ I have learn'd to raise the Devil, but how the Devil shall I do to lay him. Ha! what's here, a dead Body? The Devil assum'd this Body, and when I began to mutter my Prayers, he was in such haste he left his Carcass behind him. Ha! it stirs; no, 'twas but my Fancy. [Scaram. _lifts up all his Limbs, and lets 'em fall, whil'st_ Harl. _hits him on the Breech, lifts his Head, which falls gently_. All's dead but's Head. [_Sets him upright._ The Devil, the Devil! Be gon; what art thou? _Harl._ A poor unfortunate Devil. _Scar._ The Devil; _Avant_ then _Hagon mogon strogon_. _Harl._ O good Mr. Doctor, conjure up no more Devils and I'll be gon, or any thing.--I came only to ask your Black Artship a Question. _Scar._ No, this is not the Devil. Who art thou? Whence comest thou? What's thy Business, Quick, or _Hogon strogon_? _Harl._ Hold, hold, hold, I am poor _Harlequin_: By the Learned I am called _Zane_, by the Vulgar _Jack Pudding_. I was late Fool to a Mountebank; and last Night, in the mistaking the Pipkin, I eat up a Pot of _Bolus_ instead of Hasty Pudding; and devour'd Three Yards of _Diaculum_ Plaister instead of Pancake, for which my Master has turn'd me out of Doors instead of Wages: Therefore, to be reveng'd, I come to hire a Devil or two of you, Mr. Doctor, of a strong Constitution, that may swallow up his Turpentine Pills as fast as he makes 'em, that he may never cure poor Whore more of a Clap; and then he'll be undone, for they are his chief Patients. _Scar._ What Practice has he? _Harl._ Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores against the Term for Country Lawyers, and Attorneys Clerks; and against _Christmas_, _Easter_ and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices; and if his Pills be destroy'd, 'twill ruin him in one Term. _Scar._ Come in; and for a Crown a Week I'll lett thee out a Devil, as they do Horses at Livery, shall swallow him a Peck of Pills a day, though every one were as big as a Pumpkin; and make nothing of a _Bolus_ for a Breakfast. _Harl._ O brave Mr. Doctor! O dainty Mr. Devil! _Scar._ Seigniora. [_Here they Complement who shall go first._ _The End of the First Act._ ACT II. Faustus _in his Study_. _Good and Bad Angel descend._ _Good An._ _Faustus_, Repent; yet Heav'n will pity thee. _Bad An._ Thou art a Spirit, Heav'n cannot pity thee. _Fau._ Who buzzes in my Ear, I am a Spirit; be I a Devil yet Heaven can pity me: Yea, Heaven will pity me, if I repent. _Bad An._ Ay, but _Faustus_ never shall repent. _Good An._ Sweet _Faustus_ think of Heav'n, and heavenly Things. [_Ascends._ _Fau._ My Heart is hardened, I cannot repent. Scarce can I name Salvation, Faith, or Heav'n, But I am pinch'd, and prick'd, in thousand Places. O help distressed _Faustus_! Lucifer, Beelzebub. _and_ Mephostopholis _rises_. _Luc._ None can afford thee help; for only I have Interest in thee, _Faustus_. _Fau._ Oh! What art thou, that looks so terrible? _Luc._ I am _Lucifer_, and this is my Companion Prince in Hell. _Beel._ We are come to tell thee thou dost injure us. _Luc._ Thou call'st on Heav'n contrary to thy Promise. _Beel._ Thou should'st not think on Heav'n. _Fau._ Nor will I henceforth pardon him for this, And _Faustus_ Vows never to look to Heav'n. _Beel._ So shalt thou shew thy self a faithful Servant, And we will highly gratify thee for it. _Fau._ Those Words delight my Soul. _Luc._ _Faustus_, we are come in Person to shew thee Passtime; sit down, and thou shalt behold the Seven Deadly Sins in their own proper Shapes and Likeness. _Fau._ That Sight will be as pleasant to my Eye, as Paradise to _Adam_ the first Day of his Creation. _Beel._ Talk not of Paradise, but mind the Show. Go, _Mephostopholis_, and fetch 'em in; and, _Faustus_, question 'em their Names. _Enter Pride._ _Fau._ What art thou? _Prid._ I am _Pride_; I was begot by Disdain and Affectation. I always took the Wall of my Betters; had ever the first Cut, or else would not eat: I scorn'd all Advice, never thought any one handsom but my self; had the best Pue in the Church, though a Tradesman's Wife; and at last dyed of the Spleen, for want of a Coach and Six Horses. Why is not thy Room perfum'd, and spread with Cloth of _Tissue_? What must you sit, and I stand? Rise up Brute. _Fau._ Go, thou art a proud Slut indeed. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Covetousness. Now what art thou the Second. _Cov._ I am _Covetousness_; I was begot by a close Fist, and a griping Heart, in a Usurer's Chest. I never eat, to save Charges: This Coat has cover'd me for Fourscore Winters: This Beard has seen as many more. I never slept in my Life, but always watch'd my Gold. _Fau._ What wert thou on Earth? _Cov._ I was first an Exciseman, and cheated the King and Country; then I was a Baker, and from every Neighbor's Loaf I stole Two Pound, and swore 'twas shrunk in the Oven. I was a Vintner, and by bribing of Quest-men had leave to sell in Pint Bottles for Quarts: At last I was a Horse-courser, made _Smithfield_ too hot to hold me, and rid Post to the Devil? Give me some Gold, Father? [_Exit._ _Enter_ Envy. _Fau._ What art thou the Third? _Env._ I am _Envy_; begot by a Chimny-sweeper upon an Oyster-wench. I cannot read, and wish all Books burnt. I always curst the Government that I was not prefer'd; and was a Male-content in Three Kings Reigns. I am Lean with seeing others Eat; and I wish the Devil would make a Sponge of thy Heart, to wipe out the Score of my Sins. _Enter_ Wrath. _Fau._ Out, Envious Wretch. What art thou the Fourth? _Wra._ I am _Wrath_; I had neither Father nor Mother, but leap'd out of a Lion's Mouth when I was scarce an Hour old. I always abhor'd the Art of Patience, and curst all Fisher-men. I beat my Wife for my Pleasure; curst Heav'n in my Passion, 'cause it gave me no Fortune, and was hang'd for a Rape on a _Scotch_ Pedlar. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Gluttony. _Fau._ What art thou the Fifth? _Glut._ I am _Gluttony_; begot by a Plow-man on a Washer-woman, who devour'd a _Chedder_ Cheese in two Hours. I am of a Royal Pedigree: My Grand-father was a Sur-loin of Beef, and my Mother a Gammon of Bacon: My Sisters were Sows, which supply'd me with Pork: My Brothers were Calves, which afforded me Veal: My God-fathers were _Peter_ Pickled-Herring, and _Michael_ Milk-Porredg: My God-mothers were _Susan_ Salt-butter, and _Margery_ Sous'd-Hog's-Face. Now, _Faustus_, thou hast heard my Pedigree, wilt thou invite me to Supper? _Fau._ Not I. _Glut._ Then the Devil choak thee. _Enter_ Sloth. _Fau._ What art thou the Sixth? _Slo._ Hey ho! I am _Sloth_; I was begotten at Church by a sleepy Judg on a Costermonger's Wife, in the middle of a long Sermon. I am as Lazy as a Fishmonger in the Dog-days, or a Parson in _Lent_: I would not speak another Word for a King's Ransom. _Enter_ Leachery. _Fau._ And what are you, Mr. _Minks_, the Seventh and last? _Leach._ I am one that love an Inch of Raw Mutton better than an Ell of Fry'd Stock-fish, and the first Letter of my Name begins with _Leachery_. [_Exit._ _Fau._ This Sight delights my Soul. _Luc._ _Faustus_ in Hell are all manner of Delights. _Fau._ O might I see Hell once, and return safe. _Luc.__ Faustus_, thou shalt; give me thy hand. Hence let's descend, and we will _Faustus_ show The mighty Pleasures in the World below. [_Vanishes._ SCENE _Changes_. _Enter_ Harlequin, _and_ Scaramouche _in the Doctor's Gown; a Wand, and a Circle_. _Scar._ So, now am I in my _Pontificalibus_: Now can I shew my Black Art; for I have found that heavenly Book which _Faustus_ used to raise the Dead in: Come, stand within this Circle. _Har._ 'Tis time to Conjure, for I am almost famish'd. We have fasted like Priests for a Miracle. _Scar._ I'll make thee amends presently; I'll conjure up a Spirit, ask what thou wilt thou shalt have it. _Har._ Let me alone for asking. _Scar._ Be very earnest with him, and intreat mightily. _Har._ I'll intreat Earnestly. _Scar._ Silence. _Sint mihi Dii Acherontis propitii Nobis Diccatus Mephostopholis, &c._ Mephostopholis _rises_. _Meph._ How am I tortur'd by these Villains Charms? From _Constantinople_ have they brought me now, Only for Measure of these idle Slaves? What Would you with _Mephostopholis_? _Scar._ Wee'd know how Dr. _Faustus_ does. _Meph._ Well. _Scar._ When comes he home? _Meph._ Within Two Days. _Scar._ What was he doing when you left him? _Meph._ He was at Supper, eating good Chear. _Har._ Good Mr. Devil, tell him we are almost starv'd; and desire him to send us some of his good Chear. _Meph._ Is that all? _Har._ Some Wine too? _Meph._ What else. _Har._ What else: Why if Fornication been't against your Commandments, we would have some live Flesh; a handsom Wench. _Scar._ Only for a third Person, and please your Damnation. _Meph._ You shall have your Desires. _Har._ We desire your Mephostopholiship too, not to let us stay the Roasting and Boiling of any thing: For we are as Eager as the Wine in _Smithfield_, and want no whetting. _Meph._ You shall. Scaramouche _and_ Harlequin _pull off their Caps_. Now if your mighty Darkness would please to Retire. _Meph._ Farewell. [_Vanish._ Scaramouche _steps out of the Circle, and struts about_. _Scar._ Now how do you like my Art? _Har._ O rare Art! O divine Mr. Doctor _Scaramouche_! If the Devil be as good as his Word, I'll owe him a good Turn as long as I live: But I wish our third Person would come. _A Giant rises._ Ha! What's here? _Gi._ I am sent by _Pluto_ to bear you Company. _Har._ Is this his third Person? Or is it Three Generations in One? Come you from _Guild-hall_, Sir? _Gi._ No, Mortal, from the _Stygian_ Lake. I am the Giant which St. _George_ destroy'd; and in the Earth have been decaying ever since, but now am come to Eat with you. _Scar._ To pick up your Crums, Sir: You'r heartily Welcome. Scaramouche _gets upon_ Harlequin, _and salutes him_. _Gi._ I have lain now within the _Stygian_ Lake 2000 Years. _Scar._ Your Honour is not much shrunk in the Wetting. _Gi._ But we loose Time, and Dinner cools. _Har._ Where is it? _Gi._ In the next Room. _Scar._ Will it please your Lustiness to lead the Way? _Har._ Will it please you then to make way for him? _Gi._ I can divide my self to serve my Friends? [_Giant leaps in two._ Breeches be you my Page, and follow me. Harleq. _and_ Scaram. _complement the Breeches_. [_Exeunt._ SCENE _draws, and discovers a Table furnished with Bottles of Wine, and a Venison Pasty, a Pot of wild Fowl_, &c. _Enter_ Scaramouche, Giant, _and_ Harlequin. _Har._ O heavenly Apparition! _Scar._ Come, let's sit down. _The upper part of the Giant flies up, and the under sinks, and discovers a Woman in the Room._ Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche _start_. _Scar._ Ha! What's here, a Woman? _Har._ O happy Change! Madam, with your good Leave. [_Kisses._ _Scar._ Never too late in good Breeding. [_Kisses._] Rare Wench! And as Luscious as Pig-sauce. _Har._ Heav'n be prais'd for all. [_Woman sinks, a Flash of Lightning._ _Scar._ Your unseasonable Thankfulness has rob'd us of our Strumpet. _Har._ No matter, no matter; we shall meet her in the Cloisters after the Fair. Come let's fall too. [_They put their Caps before their Faces._ Ha! _Scar._ The Table runs away from us. _Har._ We'll bestow the Pains to follow it again; this I see is a running Banquet. [_They put their Caps on again, the Table removes._ _Scar._ I have found the Secret: We must not say Grace at the Devil's Feast. _Har._ Come then let's fall too, _San's_ Ceremony; Will you be Carver? _Scar._ Every one for himself, I say. _Har._ Ay, every one for himself, and God for us all. [_Table flies up into the Air._ _Scar._ A Plague o'your Proverb; it has a Word in't must not be named. _Har._ Ah, Mr. Doctor, do but intreat Mr. _Mephostopholis_ to let the Table down to us, or send us to that, and I'll be his Servant as long as I live. [_They are hoisted up to the Table._ _Scar. and Har._ Oh, oh, oh. _Scar._ Now have a care of another Proverb: We go without our Supper. _Har._ Nay, now I know the Devil's Humour, I'll hit him to a Hair: Pray, Mr. Doctor, cut up that Pasty. _Scar._ I can't get my Knife into it, 'tis over-bak'd. _Har._ Ay, 'tis often so: God sends Meat, and the Devil sends Cooks. [_Table flies down._ _Scar._ Thou Varlet, dost thou see what thy Proverb has done? _Har._ Now could I curse my Grand-mother, for she taught 'em me: Well, if sweet _Mephostopholis_ will be so kind as but to let us and the Table come together again, I'll promise never to say Grace, or speak Proverb more, as long as I live. [_They are let down to the Table._ _Scar._ Your Prayers are heard, now be careful; for if I lose my Supper by thy Negligence I'll cut thy Throat. _Har._ Do, and eat me when you have done. I am damnably hungry; I'll cut open this Pasty, while you open that Pot of wild Fowl. [Harlequin _takes off the Lid of the Pasty, and a Stag's Head peeps out; and out of the Pot of Fowl flies Birds_. Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche _start back, fall over their Chairs, and get up_. _Har._ Here's the Nest but the Birds are flown: Here's Wine though, and now I'll conjure for a Supper. I have a Sallad within of my own Gathering in the Fields to Day. _Scar._ Fetch it in; Bread, Wine, and a Salad may serve for a Collation. _Enter_ Harlequin _with a Tray of Sallad_. _Har._ Come, no Ceremony among Friends. _Bon. fro._ _Scar._ _Sallad mal adjuste_; here's neither Fat nor Lean. _Har._ O Mr. Doctor, neither Fat nor Lean in a Sallad. _Scar._ Neither Oyl, nor Vinegar. _Har._ Oh! I'll fetch you that presently. [Harlequin _fetches a Chamber-pot of Piss, and a Lamp of Oyl, and pours on the Sallad_. _Scar._ O thy Sallad is nothing but Thistles and Netles; and thy Oyl stinks worse than _Arsefetito_. _Har._ Bread and Wine be our Fare. Ha! the Bread's alive. [_Bread stirs._ _Scar._ Or the Devil's in't. Hey! again. [_Bread sinks._ _Har._ My Belly's as empty as a Beggar's Purse. _Scar._ And mine as full of Wind as a Trumpeter's Cheeks. [_Table sinks, and Flash of Lightning._ But since we can't Eat, let's Drink: Come, here's Dr. _Faustus_'s Health. _Har._ Ay, come; God bless Dr. _Faustus_. [_Bottles fly up, and the Table sinks._ _Scar._ What all gone: Here's a Banquet stole away like a City Feast. [_Musick._ _Har._ Ha! here's Musick to delight us. [_Two Chairs rises._ Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche _sits down, and are caught fast_. _Scar._ Ha! the Devil. We are lock'd in. _Har._ As fast as a Counter Rat. _Enter several Devils, who black_ Harlequin _and_ Scaramouche's _Faces, and then squirt Milk upon them_. _After the Dance they both sink._ _Scar. and Har._ O' o, o'---- _The End of the Second Act._ ACT III. SCENE _a Wood_. Mephostopholis _and Dr._ Faustus. _Faust._ How have I been delighted by thy Art; and in Twelve Years have seen the utmost Limits of the spacious World; feasted my self with all Varieties; pleasur'd my Fancy with my Magick Art, and liv'd sole Lord o'er every Thing I wish'd for. _Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, is it not a splendid Life? _Faust._ It is my Spirit; but prithee now retire, while I repose my self within this Shade, and when I wake attend on me again. _Meph._ _Faust_, I will. [_Exit._ _Faust._ What art thou, _Faustus_, but a Man condemn'd. Thy Lease of Years expire apace; and, _Faustus_, then thou must be _Lucifers_: Here rest my Soul, and in my Sleep my future State be buried. _Good and bad Angel descends._ _Good An._ _Faustus_, sweet _Faustus_, yet remember Heav'n. Oh! think upon the everlasting Pain thou must endure, For all thy short Space of Pleasure. _Bad An._ Illusions, Fancies, _Faustus_; think of Earth. The Kings thou shalt command: The Pleasures Rule. Be, _Faustus_, not a whining, pious Fool. [_Ascend._ _Enter_ Horse-courser. _Hors._ Oh! what a couz'ning Doctor was this: I riding my Horse into the Water, thinking some hidden Mystery had been in 'em, found my self on a Bundle of Straw, and was drag'd by Something in the Water, like a Bailiff through a Horse-pond. Ha! he's a Sleep: So ho, Mr. Doctor, so ho. Why Doctor, you couz'ning, wheedling, hypocritical, cheating, chousing, Son of a Whore; awake, rise, and give me my Mony again, for your Horse is turn'd into a Bottle of Hay. Why Sirrah, Doctor; 'sfoot I think he's dead. Way Doctor Scab; you mangy Dog. [_pulls him by the Leg._ 'Zounds I'm undone, I have pull'd his Leg off. _Faust._ O help! the Villain has undone me; Murder. _Hors._ Murder, or not Murder, now he has but one Leg I'll out-run him. [_Exit._ _Faust._ Stop, stop him; ha, ha, ha, _Faustus_ has his Leg again, and the Horse-courser a Bundle of Hay for his Forty Dollars. Come, _Mephostopholis_, let's now attend the Emperor. [_Exit_ Faust. _and_ Meph. _Enter_ Horse-courser, _and_ Carter, _with Pots of Ale_. _Cart._ Here's to thee; and now I'll tell thee what I came hither for: You have heard of a Conjurer they call Doctor _Faustus_. _Hors._ Heard of him, a Plague take him, I have Cause to know him; has he play'd any Pranks with you? _Cart._ I'll tell thee, as I was going to the Market a while ago, with a Load of Hay, he met me, and askt me, What he should give me for as much Hay as his Horse would Eat: Now, Sir, I thinking that a little would serve his Turn, bad him take as much as he would for Three Farthings. _Hors._ So. _Cart._ So he presently gave me Mony, and fell to Eating: And as I'm a cursen Man, he never left Yeating and Yeating, 'till he had eaten up my whole Load of Hay. _Hors._ Now you shall hear how he serv'd me: I went to him Yesterday to buy a Horse of him, which I did; and he had me be sure not to ride him into the Water. _Cart._ Good. _Hors._ Ad's Wounds 'twas Bad, as you shall hear: For I thinking the Horse had some rare Quality, that he would not have me know, what do me I but rides him in the Water; and when I came just in the midst of the River, I found my self a Straddle on a Bottle of Hay. _Cart._ O rare Doctor! _Hors._ But you shall hear how I serv'd him bravely for it; for finding him a Sleep just now in a By-Field, I whoop'd and hollow'd in his Ears, but could not wake him; so I took hold of his Leg, and never left pulling till I had pull'd it quite off. _Cart._ And has the Doctor but one Leg then? That's Rare. But come, this is his House, let's in and see for our Mony; look you, we'll pay as we come back. _Hors._ Done, done; and when we have got our Mony let's laugh at his one Leg: Ha, ha, ha. [_Exeunt Laughing._ _Enter_ Hostess. _Host._ What have the Rogues left my Pots, and run away, without paying their Reck'ning? I'll after 'em, cheating Villains, Rogues, Cut-purses; rob a poor Woman, cheat the Spittle, and rob the King of his Excise; a parcel of Rustick, Clownish, Pedantical, High-shoo'd, Plow-jobbing, Cart-driving, Pinch-back'd, Paralytick, Fumbling, Grumbling, Bellowing, Yellowing, Peas-picking, Stinking, Mangy, Runagate, Ill-begotten, Ill-contriv'd, Wry-mouth'd, Spatrifying, Dunghill-raking, Costive, Snorting, Sweaty, Farting, Whaw-drover Dogs. [_Exit_ _Enter_ Faustus. _Faust._ My Time draws near, and 20 Years are past: I have but Four poor Twelve Months for my Life, and then I am damn'd for ever. _Enter an_ Old Man. _Old M._ O gentle _Faustus_, leave this damn'd Art; this Magick, that will charm thy Soul to Hell, and quite bereave thee of Salvation: Though thou hast now offended like a Man, do not, oh! do not persist in't like a Devil. It may be this my Exhortation seems harsh, and all unpleasant; let it not, for, gentle Son, I speak in tender Love and Pity of thy future Misery; and so have hope that this my kind Rebuke, checking thy Body, may preserve thy Soul. _Faust._ Where art thou, _Faustus_? Wretch, what hast thou done? O Friend, I feel thy Words to comfort my distressed Soul; retire, and let me ponder on my Sins. _Old M._ _Faustus_, I leave thee, but with grief of Heart, Fearing thy Enemy will near depart. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Mephostopholis. _Meph._ Thou Traytor, I arrest thee for Disobedience to thy Sovereign Lord; revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy Flesh. _Faust._ I do repent I e'er offended him; torment, sweet Friend, that old Man that durst disswade me from thy _Lucifer_. _Meph._ His Faith is great, I cannot touch his Soul; but what I can afflict his Body with I will. _Enter_ Horse-courser _and_ Carter. _Hors._ We are come to drink a Health to your wooden Leg. _Faust._ My wooden Leg; what dost thou mean, Friend? _Hors._ Ha, ha! he has forgot his Leg. _Cart._ Psha, 'tis not a Leg he stands upon. Pray, let me ask you one Question; Are both your Legs Bed-fellows? _Faust._ Why dost thou ask? _Cart._ Because I believe you have a good Companion of one. _Hors._ Why, don't you remember I pull'd off one o' your Legs when you were a Sleep? _Faust._ But I have it again now I am awake. _Cart._ Ad's Wounds, had the Doctor three Legs!----You, Sir, don't you remember you gave a Peny for as much Hay as your Horse would eat, and then eat up my whole Load. _Hors._ Look you, Mr. Doctor, you must not carry it off so; I come to have the Mony again I gave for the Ho-o-o- [Faustus _waves his Wand_. _Cart._ And I come to be paid far my Load of Ha-a-a. _Enter_ Hostess. _Host._ O Mr. Doctor! do you harbour Rogues that bilk poor Folks, and wont pay their Reck'nings? Who must pay me for my A-a-a-a [_Waves again._ _Enter_ Scaramouche. _Scar._ Mr. Doctor, I can't be quiet for your Devil Mr. _Me-o-o--_ [_Waves again._ [_Exeunt_ Faustus _and_ Mephostopholis. _They all stare at one another, and so go off, crying O, o, o, o- to the Emperor's Pallace._ _Enter Emperor_, Faustus, _Gent. Guards._ Benoolio _above_. _Emp._ Wonder of Men, thrice Learned _Faustus_, Renowned Magician, welcome to our Court; and as thou late didst promise us, I would behold the Famous _Alexander_ fighting with his great Rival _Darius_, in their true Shapes, and State Majestical. _Faust._ Your Majesty shall see 'em presently. _Ben._ If thou bring'st _Alexander_, or _Darius_ here, I'll be content to be _Actæon_, and turn my self to a Stag. _Faust._ And I'll play _Diana_, and send you the Horns presently. _Enter_ Darius _and_ Alexander; _they Fight_: Darius _falls_. Alexander _takes his Crown, and puts it on his Head_. [_Exit._ Darius _sinks_. _Faust._ Away, be gon; see, my Gracious Lord, what Beast is that that thrusts his Head out of yon' Window. _Emp._ O wondrous Sight! see two Horns on young _Benoolio_'s Head; call him, Lords. _Lord._ What, ho! _Benoolio_. _Ben._ A Plague upon you, let me Sleep. _Lord._ Look up, _Benoolio_, 'tis the Emperor calls. _Ben._ The Emperor; O my Head. _Faust._ And thy Horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy Head. _Ben._ Doctor, this is your Villany. _Faust._ O say not so, Sir; the Doctor has no Skill, if he bring _Alexander_ or _Darius_ here you'll be _Actæon_, and turn to a Stag: Therefore, if it please your Majesty, I'll bring a Kennel of Hounds to hunt him. Ho! _Helmot_, _Argiron_, _Asterot_. _Ben._ Hold, he'll raise a Kennel of Devils. Good, my Lord, intreat. _Emp._ Prithee remove his Horns, he has done Penance enough. _Faust._ Away; and remember hereafter you speak well of Scholars. _Ben._ If Scholars be such Cuckolds to put Horns upon honest Mens Heads, I'll ne'er trust Smooth-face and Small-band more: But if I been't reveng'd, may I be turn'd to a Gaping Oyster, and drink nothing but Salt-water. _Emp._ Come, _Faustus_, in recompence of this high Desert, Thou shalt command the State of _Germany_, and live belov'd of mighty _Carolus_. [_Exeunt omnes._ SCENE _a Garden_. _Lord._ Nay, sweet _Benoolio_, let us sway thy Thoughts from this Attempt against the Conjurer. _Ben._ My Head is lighter than it was by the Horns: And yet my Heart's more pond'rous than my Head, And pants, until I see the Conjurer dead. _2 Lord._ Consider. _Ben._ Away; disswade me not, he comes. [_Draws._ _Enter_ Faustus _with a false Head_. Now Sword strike home: For Horns he gave, I'll have his Head anon. _Runs_ Faustus _through, he falls_. _Faust._ Oh, oh. _Ben._ Groan you, Mr. Doctor, now for his Head. [_Cuts his Head off._ _Lord._ Struck with a willing Hand. _Ben._ First, on this Scull, in quittance of my Wrongs, I'll nail huge forked Horns within the Window where he yoak'd me first, that all the World may see my just Revenge; and thus having settled his Head---- _Faust._ What shall the Body do, Gentlemen. _Ben._ The Devil's alive again? _Lord._ Give the Devil his Head again. _Faust._ Nay, keep it; _Faustus_ will have Heads and Hands; I call your Hearts to recompence this Deed. Ho; _Asteroth_, _Belincoth_, _Mephostopholis_. _Enter Devils, and Horse 'em upon others._ Go Horse these Traytors on your fiery Backs. Drag 'em through Dirt and Mud, through Thorns and Briers. _Lord._ Pity us, gentle _Faustus_, save our Lives. _Faust._ Away. _Ben._ He must needs go whom the Devil drives. [_Spirits fly away._ _Exit_ Faustus. SCENE _a Hall_. _Enter_ Harlequin _in a Beggar's Habit_. _Harl._ I find this _Scaramouche_ is a Villain; he has left the Doctor, and is come to be Steward to a rich Widdow, whose Husband dyed Yesterday, and here he is coming to give the Poor their Doles, of which I'll ha' my Share. Scaramouche, _and poor People, with a Basket of Bread and Money_. _Scar._ Come hither, poor Devils; stand in Order, and be Damn'd. I came to distribute what your deceased good Master hath bequeath'd. [_They all stare at_ Scar. _Harl._ God bless you, Mr. Steward. _Scar._ Let me tell you, Gentlemen, he was as good a Man as ever piss'd, or cry'd Stand on the High-way. [Scaramouche _takes out a Leaf and a Shilling, holds it out, and_ Harlequin _takes it_. He spent a good Estate, 'tis true; but he was no Body's Foe but his own. I never left him while he was worth a Groat. [_Again._] He would now and then Curse in his Passion, and give a Soul to the Devil, or so; yet, what of that? He always paid his Club, and no Man can say he owes this. [_Again._] He had a Colt's Tooth, and over-laid one of his Maids; yet, what of that? All Flesh is frail. [_Again._] 'Tis thought that her Body workt him off on his Legs; why, what of that? his Legs were his own, and his Arse never hung in your Light. [_Again._] Sometimes, you'll say, he wou'd rap out an Oath; what then, Words are but Wind, and he meant no more harm than a sucking Pig does by squeaking. [_Again._] Now let's consider his good Deeds; he brew'd a Firkin of strong Drink for the poor every Year, and kill'd an old Ram every _Easter_: The Meat that was stale, and his Drink that was sowre, was always yours. [_Again._] He allow'd you in Harvest to Glean after his Rake. [_Again._] And now, at his Death, has given you all this. [_Again._ _Scar._ So, setting the Hare's Head against the Goose Giblets, he was a good Hospitable Man; and much good may do you with what you had. _Poor._ I have had nothing. _2 Poor._ Nor I. _3 Po._ Nor I. _4 Po._ Nor. I. _Scar._ Nothing. _All._ Nothing, nothing. _Scar._ Nothing, nothing; you lying Rogues, then there's something for you. [_Beats 'em all off._ _Enter_ Harlequin _in a Cloak, laughing_. _Har._ So now I am Victual'd, I may hold out Siege against Hunger. [_A Noise within; this way, this way._ Ha! they are hunting after me, and will kill me. Let me see, I will take this Gibbet for my Preserver, and with this long Cloak make as if I were hang'd. Now when they find a Man hang'd, not knowing me in this Disguise, they'll look no farther after me, but think the Thief's hang'd.----I hear 'em coming. [_Throws himself off the Ladder._ _Enter_ Scaramouche. _Scar._ Ha! what's here, a Man hang'd? But what Paper is this in his Hand? [_Whil'st_ Scaramouche _reads_, Harlequin _puts the Rope over him_. I have cheated the Poor of their Mony, and took the Bread out of their Mouths, for which I was much troubled in Conscience, fell into Dispair, and, as you see, hang'd my self. [_Pulls him up, and runs out_ O the Devil! Murder, murder! _Enter_ Poor. _Poor._ O Neighbours, here hangs the Rogue. _Scar._ Help me down? _Poor._ No, you are very well as you are. _Scar._ Don't you know me? _Poor._ Ay, for a Rogue; e'en finish your Work, and save the Hang-man a Labour. Yet, now I think on't, self-murder is a crying Sin, and may damn his Soul. Come, Neighbours, we'll take him down, and have him hang'd according to Law. [_When he's down he trips up their Heels, and runs out, they after him._ _All._ Stop Thief, stop Thief. _Thunder and Lightning_; Lucifer, Beelzebub, _and_ Mephostopholis. _Luc._ Thus from the infernal _Dis_ do we ascend, bringing with us the Deed; the Time is come which makes it forfeit. _Enter_ Faustus, _an old Man, and a Scholar_. _Old M._ Yet, _Faustus_, call on Heav'n. _Faust._ Oh! 'tis too late; behold, they lock my Hands. _Old M._ Who, _Faustus_? _Faust._ _Lucifer_ and _Mephostopholis_; I gave 'em my Soul for Four and twenty Years. _Old M._ Heav'n forbid. _Fau._ Ay, Heav'n forbad it indeed, but _Faustus_ has done it; for the vain Pleasure of Four and twenty Years, _Faustus_ has lost eternal Joy and Felicity: I writ 'em a Bill with my own Blood, the Date is expired; this is the Time, and they are come to fetch me. _Old M._ Why would not _Faustus_ tell me of that before? _Faust._ I oft intended it, but the Devil threat'ned to tear me in Pieces. O Friend, retire, and save your self. _Old M._ I'll into the next Room, and there pray for thee. _Faust._ Ay, pray for me; and what Noise soever you hear stir not, for nothing can rescue me. _Old M._ Pray thou, and I'll pray. Adieu. _Faust._ If I live till Morning I'll visit you; if not, _Faustus_ is gon to Hell. [_Exeunt old Man and Scholar._ _Meph._ Ay, _Faustus_, now thou hast no hopes on Heav'n. _Faust._ O thou bewitching Fiend; 'twas thou, and thy Temptations, hath rob'd me of eternal Happiness. _Meph._ I do confess it, _Faustus_, and rejoyce. What weep'st thou, 'tis too late; hark to thy Knell: Fools that will Laugh on Earth, must Weep in Hell. _Ext._ _Good and bad Angel descend._ _Good An._ O _Faustus_, if thou hadst given Ear to me, Innumerable Joys had followed thee: But thou didst love the World. _Bad An._ Gave Ear to me, and now must taste Hell's Pains perpetual. _Throne of Heaven appears._ _Good An._ Had'st thou affected sweet Divinity, Hell, nor the Devil, had no Power on thee. Had'st thou kept on that way, _Faustus_, behold in what resplendid Glory thou had'st sat; that hast thou Lost. And now, poor Soul, must thy good Angel leave: The Jaws of Hell are ready to receive thee. [_Ascends._ _Hell is discovered._ _Bad An._ Now, _Faustus_, let thy Eyes with Horror stare Into that Vast perpetual torturing House. _Faust._ O I have seen enough to torture me. _Bad An._ Nay thou must feel 'em, 'taste the Smart of all. He that loves Pleasure must for Pleasure fall: And so I leave thee, _Faustus_, till anon. Thou'lt tumble into Confusion. [_Descends._ _The Clock strikes Eleven._ _Faust._ Now, _Faustus_, hast thou but one bear Hour to Live, And then thou must be Damn'd perpetually: Stand still you ever-moving Spheres of Heav'n, That Time may cease, and Mid-night never come. Or let this Hour be but a Year, a Month, a Week, a natural Day; that _Faustus_ may repent, and save his Soul. Mountains and Hills come, come, and fall on me, and hide me from the heavy Wrath of Heav'n. Gape Earth; Oh no, it will not harbour me. [_The Clock strikes._ Oh! half the Hour is past; 'twill all be past anon. Oh! if my Soul must suffer for my Sin, impose some end to my incessant Pain. Let _Faustus_ live in Hell a Thousand Years, an Hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd. [_Strikes Twelve._ No End is limitted to damn'd Souls: It strikes, it strikes. Now, Body, turn to Air, to Earth, or Water. Oh! avoid the Fire: They come. Oh! mercy, Heaven; ugly Hell gape not. Come not _Lucifer_; O _Mephostopholis_. [_Sink with Devils. Thunder._ _Enter old Man and Scholar._ _Old M._ Come, Friend, let's visit _Faustus_: For such a dreadful Night was never seen. _Scene discovers_ Faustus's _Limbs_. _Schol._ O help us, Heav'n; see here are _Faustus_'s Limbs, All torn asunder by the Hand of Hell. _Old M._ May this a fair Example be to all, To avoid such Ways which brought poor _Faustus_'s Fall. And whatsoever Pleasure does invite, Sell not your Souls to purchase vain Delight. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to Hell._ Faustus _Limbs come together_. _A Dance, and Song._ _FINIS._ WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES The Augustan Reprint Society PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT The Augustan Reprint Society PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT =1948-1949= 16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673). 17. Nicholas Rowe, _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_ (1709). 18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720). =1949-1950= 19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709). 20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734). 22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two _Rambler_ papers (1750). 23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681). =1951-1952= 26. Charles Macklin, _The Man of the World_ (1792). 31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), and _The Eton College Manuscript_. =1952-1953= 41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732). =1962-1963= 98. Selected Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's _Temple_ ... (1697). =1964-1965= 109. Sir William Temple, _An Essay Upon the Original and Nature of Government_ (1680). 110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700). 111. Anonymous, _Political Justice_ (1736). 112. Robert Dodsley, _An Essay on Fable_ (1764). 113. T. R., _An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning_ (1698). 114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, _One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope_ (1730), and Anonymous, _The Blatant Beast_ (1742). =1965-1966= 115. Daniel Defoe and others, _Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal_. 116. Charles Macklin, _The Covent Garden Theatre_ (1752). 117. Sir Roger L'Estrange, _Citt and Bumpkin_ (1680). 118. Henry More, _Enthusiasmus Triumphatus_ (1662). 119. Thomas Traherne, _Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation_ (1717). 120. Bernard Mandeville, _Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables_ (1740). =1966-1967= 123. Edmond Malone, _Cursory Observations on the Poems Attributed to Mr. Thomas Rowley_ (1782). 124. Anonymous, _The Female Wits_ (1704). 125. Anonymous, _The Scribleriad_ (1742). Lord Hervey, _The Difference Between Verbal and Practical Virtue_ (1742). =1967-1968= 129. Lawrence Echard, Prefaces to _Terence's Comedies_ (1694) and _Plautus's Comedies_ (1694). =1968-1969= 133. John Courtenay, _A Poetical Review of the Literary and Moral Character of the Late Samuel Johnson_ (1786). 134. John Downes, _Roscius Anglicanus_ (1708). 135. Sir John Hill, _Hypochondriasis, a Practical Treatise_ (1766). 136. Thomas Sheridan, _Discourse ... Being Introductory to His Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language_ (1759). 137. Arthur Murphy, _The Englishman From Paris_ (1736). =1969-1970= 138. [Catherine Trotter], _Olinda's Adventures_ (1718). 139. John Ogilvie, _An Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients_ (1762). 140. _A Learned Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1726) and _Pudding Burnt to Pot or a Compleat Key to the Dissertation on Dumpling_ (1727). 141. Selections from Sir Roger L'Estrange's _Observator_ (1681-1687). 142. Anthony Collins, _A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing_ (1729). 143. _A Letter From A Clergyman to His Friend, With An Account of the Travels of Captain Lemuel Gulliver_ (1726). 144. _The Art of Architecture, A Poem. In Imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry_ (1742). =1970-1971= 145-146. Thomas Shelton, _A Tutor to Tachygraphy, or Short-writing_ (1642) and _Tachygraphy_ (1647). 147-148. _Deformities of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ (1782). 149. _Poeta de Tristibus: or the Poet's Complaint_ (1682). 150. Gerard Langbaine, _Momus Triumphans: or the Plagiaries of the English Stage_ (1687). =1971-1972= 151-152. Evan Lloyd, _The Methodist_. A Poem (1766). 153. _Are these Things So?_ (1740), and _The Great Man's Answer to Are these Things So?_ (1740). 154. Arbuthnotiana: _The Story of the St. Alb-ns Ghost_ (1712), and _A Catalogue of Dr. Arbuthnot's Library_ (1779). 155-156. A Selection of Emblems from Herman Hugo's _Pia Desideria_ (1624), with English Adaptations by Francis Quarles and Edmund Arwaker. THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY William Andrews Clark Memorial Library UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES 2520 Cimarron Street (at West Adams), Los Angeles, California 90018 Publications of the first fifteen years of the Society (numbers 1-90) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $16.00 per unit, from the Kraus Reprint Company, 16 East 46th Street, New York, N.Y. 10017. Publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of $5.00 for individuals and $8.00 for institutions per year. Prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. Subsequent publications may be checked in the annual prospectus. _Make check or money order payable to_ THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
14591	----	Proofreading Team [Illustration: Faust] [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration: _Have you not led this life quite long enough?_] FAUST _by_ _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_ WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY _Harry Clarke_ TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH, IN THE ORIGINAL METRES, BY _Bayard Taylor_ _An Illustrated Edition_ THE WORLD PUBLISHING COMPANY CLEVELAND, OHIO NEW YORK, N.Y. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA [Illustration] [Illustration] CONTENTS PREFACE AN GOETHE DEDICATION PRELUDE AT THE THEATRE PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN SCENE I. NIGHT (_Faust's Monologue_) II. BEFORE THE CITY-GATE III. THE STUDY (_The Exorcism_) IV. THE STUDY (_The Compact_) V. AUERBACH'S CELLAR VI. WITCHES' KITCHEN VII. A STREET VIII. EVENING IX. PROMENADE X. THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE XI. STREET XII. GARDEN XIII. A GARDEN-ARBOR XIV. FOREST AND CAVERN XV. MARGARET'S ROOM XVI. MARTHA'S GARDEN XVII. AT THE FOUNTAIN XVIII. DONJON (_Margaret's Prayer_) XIX. NIGHT (_Valentine's Death_) XX. CATHEDRAL XXI. WALPURGIS-NIGHT XXII. OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN WEDDING XXIII. DREARY DAY XXIV. NIGHT XXV. DUNGEON [Illustration] FAUST [Illustration] [Illustration: Preface] It is twenty years since I first determined to attempt the translation of _Faust_, 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. 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 _Faust_ 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 _Faust_, 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. 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] are quite independent of his views concerning the value of form, which we find given elsewhere, in the clearest and most emphatic manner.[B] 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.[C] [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 _Faust_ 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 _Faust_, but no more than are still allowed--nay, frequently encouraged--in the English of our day. [B] "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."--_Eckermann_. "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."--_Ibid_. "_All that is poetic in character should be rythmically treated_! 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."--_Goethe to Schiller_, 1797. Tycho Mommsen, in his excellent essay, _Die Kunst des Deutschen Uebersetzers aus neueren Sprachen_, 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." [C] "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."--_Beethoven_. 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[D] 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 _one best_ word or phrase in the English lines he quotes, whereas the translator seeks precisely that one best word or phrase (having _all_ the resources of his language at command), to represent what is said in _another_ 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 _Faust_ 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,"[E] 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,[F] in the passages which he translated, both literally and rhythmically, from the _Helena_ (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 _Faust_. 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.[G] [D] Life of Goethe (Book VI.). [E] 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 _other_ metres; while Hayward's entirely omits the element of poetry. [F] Foreign Review, 1828. [G] When Freiligrath can thus give us Walter Scott:-- "Kommt, wie der Wind kommt, Wenn Wälder erzittern Kommt, wie die Brandung Wenn Flotten zersplittern! Schnell heran, schnell herab, Schneller kommt Al'e!--Häuptling und Bub' und Knapp, Herr und Vasalle!" or Strodtmann thus reproduce Tennyson:-- "Es fällt der Strahl auf Burg und Thal, Und schneeige Gipfel, reich an Sagen; Viel' Lichter wehn auf blauen Seen, Bergab die Wasserstürze jagen! Blas, Hüfthorn, blas, in Wiederhall erschallend: Blas, Horn--antwortet, Echos, hallend, hallend, hallend!" --it must be a dull ear which would be satisfied with the omission of rhythm and rhyme. 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,[H] 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.[I] [H] On his second page, the line _Mein Lied ertönt der unbekannten Menge_, "My song sounds to the unknown multitude," is translated: "My _sorrow_ voices itself to the strange throng." Other English translators, I notice, have followed Mr. Hayward in mistaking _Lied_ for _Leid_. I: 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:-- "Kühn is das Mühen, Herrlich der Lohn! Und die Soldaten Ziehen davon." Literally: Bold is the endeavor, Splendid the pay! And the soldiers March away. This Mr. Hayward translates:-- Bold the adventure, Noble the reward-- And the soldiers Are off. 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, "_a sort of rhythmical arrangement_ 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. While, therefore, I heartily recognize his lofty appreciation of _Faust_,--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 _Faust_ 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. 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.[J] [J] 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 _learnable_) 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."--_Ueber den Ursprung der Sprache_. The difficulties in the way of a nearly literal translation of _Faust_ 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 _Helena_ occurs now and then in Milton's _Samson Agonistes_. It is true that the metrical foot into which the German language most naturally falls is the _trochaic_, while in English it is the _iambic_: 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 _Faust_ that there is a mutual approach of the two languages. In _Faust_, 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 _Faust_ 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. I am satisfied that the difference between a translation of _Faust_ 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, _Faust_ is far from being a technically perfect work.[K] [K] "At present, everything runs in technical grooves, and the critical gentlemen begin to wrangle whether in a rhyme an _s_ should correspond with an _s_ and not with _sz_. 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."--_Goethe_, in 1831. 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. B.T. [Illustration] AN GOETHE _Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren! Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey, Zum höh'ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren, Und singest dort die voll're Litanei. Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren, Vom reinsten Aether, drin Du athmest frei, O neige Dich zu gnädigem Erwiedern Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern! II Den alten Musen die bestäubten Kronen Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kühner Hand: Du löst die Räthsel ältester Aeonen Durch jüngeren Glauben, helleren Verstand, Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen, Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland; Und Deine Jünger sehn in Dir, verwundert, Verkörpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert. III Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen, Des Lebens Wiedersprüche, neu vermählt,-- Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen, Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewählt,-- Darf ich in fremde Klänge übertragen Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt? Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen, Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!_ B.T. [Illustration] [Illustration: =Dedication=] Again ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye, As early to my clouded sight ye shone! Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye? Still o'er my heart is that illusion thrown? Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye, And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone! My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken, From magic airs that round your march awaken. Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision; The dear, familiar phantoms rise again, And, like an old and half-extinct tradition, First Love returns, with Friendship in his train. Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition Life tracks his devious, labyrinthine chain, And names the Good, whose cheating fortune tore them From happy hours, and left me to deplore them. They hear no longer these succeeding measures, The souls, to whom my earliest songs I sang: Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures, And still, alas! the echoes first that rang! I bring the unknown multitude my treasures; Their very plaudits give my heart a pang, And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered, If still they live, wide through the world are scattered. And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land: My song, to faint Aeolian murmurs turning, Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned. I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning, And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned. What I possess, I see far distant lying, And what I lost, grows real and undying. [Illustration] [Illustration: =Prelude at the Theatre=] MANAGER DRAMATIC POET MERRY-ANDREW MANAGER You two, who oft a helping hand Have lent, in need and tribulation. Come, let me know your expectation Of this, our enterprise, in German land! I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated, Especially since it lives and lets me live; The posts are set, the booth of boards completed. And each awaits the banquet I shall give. Already there, with curious eyebrows raised, They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed. I know how one the People's taste may flatter, Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel: What they're accustomed to, is no great matter, But then, alas! they've read an awful deal. How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new,-- Important matter, yet attractive too? For 'tis my pleasure-to behold them surging, When to our booth the current sets apace, And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging, Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace: By daylight even, they push and cram in To reach the seller's box, a fighting host, And as for bread, around a baker's door, in famine, To get a ticket break their necks almost. This miracle alone can work the Poet On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it. POET Speak not to me of yonder motley masses, Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song! Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes, And in its whirlpool forces us along! No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses The purer joys that round the Poet throng,-- Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion! Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling The timid lips have stammeringly expressed,-- Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing,-- Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast; Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing, Its perfect stature stands at last confessed! What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit: What's genuine, shall Posterity inherit. MERRY-ANDREW Posterity! Don't name the word to me! If _I_ should choose to preach Posterity, Where would you get contemporary fun? That men _will_ have it, there's no blinking: A fine young fellow's presence, to my thinking, Is something worth, to every one. Who genially his nature can outpour, Takes from the People's moods no irritation; The wider circle he acquires, the more Securely works his inspiration. Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin! Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted,-- Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join,-- But have a care, lest Folly be omitted! MANAGER Chiefly, enough of incident prepare! They come to look, and they prefer to stare. Reel off a host of threads before their faces, So that they gape in stupid wonder: then By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces, And are, at once, most popular of men. Only by mass you touch the mass; for any Will finally, himself, his bit select: Who offers much, brings something unto many, And each goes home content with the effect, If you've a piece, why, just in pieces give it: A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it! 'Tis easily displayed, and easy to invent. What use, a Whole compactly to present? Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it! POET You do not feel, how such a trade debases; How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true! The botching work each fine pretender traces Is, I perceive, a principle with you. MANAGER Such a reproach not in the least offends; A man who some result intends Must use the tools that best are fitting. Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting, And then, observe for whom you write! If one comes bored, exhausted quite, Another, satiate, leaves the banquet's tapers, And, worst of all, full many a wight Is fresh from reading of the daily papers. Idly to us they come, as to a masquerade, Mere curiosity their spirits warming: The ladies with themselves, and with their finery, aid, Without a salary their parts performing. What dreams are yours in high poetic places? You're pleased, forsooth, full houses to behold? Draw near, and view your patrons' faces! The half are coarse, the half are cold. One, when the play is out, goes home to cards; A wild night on a wench's breast another chooses: Why should you rack, poor, foolish bards, For ends like these, the gracious Muses? I tell you, give but more--more, ever more, they ask: Thus shall you hit the mark of gain and glory. Seek to confound your auditory! To satisfy them is a task.-- What ails you now? Is't suffering, or pleasure? POET Go, find yourself a more obedient slave! What! shall the Poet that which Nature gave, The highest right, supreme Humanity, Forfeit so wantonly, to swell your treasure? Whence o'er the heart his empire free? The elements of Life how conquers he? Is't not his heart's accord, urged outward far and dim, To wind the world in unison with him? When on the spindle, spun to endless distance, By Nature's listless hand the thread is twirled, And the discordant tones of all existence In sullen jangle are together hurled, Who, then, the changeless orders of creation Divides, and kindles into rhythmic dance? Who brings the One to join the general ordination, Where it may throb in grandest consonance? Who bids the storm to passion stir the bosom? In brooding souls the sunset burn above? Who scatters every fairest April blossom Along the shining path of Love? Who braids the noteless leaves to crowns, requiting Desert with fame, in Action's every field? Who makes Olympus sure, the Gods uniting? The might of Man, as in the Bard revealed. MERRY-ANDREW So, these fine forces, in conjunction, Propel the high poetic function, As in a love-adventure they might play! You meet by accident; you feel, you stay, And by degrees your heart is tangled; Bliss grows apace, and then its course is jangled; You're ravished quite, then comes a touch of woe, And there's a neat romance, completed ere you know! Let us, then, such a drama give! Grasp the exhaustless life that all men live! Each shares therein, though few may comprehend: Where'er you touch, there's interest without end. In motley pictures little light, Much error, and of truth a glimmering mite, Thus the best beverage is supplied, Whence all the world is cheered and edified. Then, at your play, behold the fairest flower Of youth collect, to hear the revelation! Each tender soul, with sentimental power, Sucks melancholy food from your creation; And now in this, now that, the leaven works. For each beholds what in his bosom lurks. They still are moved at once to weeping or to laughter, Still wonder at your flights, enjoy the show they see: A mind, once formed, is never suited after; One yet in growth will ever grateful be. POET Then give me back that time of pleasures, While yet in joyous growth I sang,-- When, like a fount, the crowding measures Uninterrupted gushed and sprang! Then bright mist veiled the world before me, In opening buds a marvel woke, As I the thousand blossoms broke, Which every valley richly bore me! I nothing had, and yet enough for youth-- Joy in Illusion, ardent thirst for Truth. Give, unrestrained, the old emotion, The bliss that touched the verge of pain, The strength of Hate, Love's deep devotion,-- O, give me back my youth again! MERRY ANDREW Youth, good my friend, you certainly require When foes in combat sorely press you; When lovely maids, in fond desire, Hang on your bosom and caress you; When from the hard-won goal the wreath Beckons afar, the race awaiting; When, after dancing out your breath, You pass the night in dissipating:-- But that familiar harp with soul To play,--with grace and bold expression, And towards a self-erected goal To walk with many a sweet digression,-- This, aged Sirs, belongs to you, And we no less revere you for that reason: Age childish makes, they say, but 'tis not true; We're only genuine children still, in Age's season! MANAGER The words you've bandied are sufficient; 'Tis deeds that I prefer to see: In compliments you're both proficient, But might, the while, more useful be. What need to talk of Inspiration? 'Tis no companion of Delay. If Poetry be your vocation, Let Poetry your will obey! Full well you know what here is wanting; The crowd for strongest drink is panting, And such, forthwith, I'd have you brew. What's left undone to-day, To-morrow will not do. Waste not a day in vain digression: With resolute, courageous trust Seize every possible impression, And make it firmly your possession; You'll then work on, because you must. Upon our German stage, you know it, Each tries his hand at what he will; So, take of traps and scenes your fill, And all you find, be sure to show it! Use both the great and lesser heavenly light,-- Squander the stars in any number, Beasts, birds, trees, rocks, and all such lumber, Fire, water, darkness, Day and Night! Thus, in our booth's contracted sphere, The circle of Creation will appear, And move, as we deliberately impel, From Heaven, across the World, to Hell! [Illustration] [Illustration] PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN THE LORD THE HEAVENLY HOST _Afterwards_ MEPHISTOPHELES (_The_ THREE ARCHANGELS _come forward_.) RAPHAEL The sun-orb sings, in emulation, 'Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round: His path predestined through Creation He ends with step of thunder-sound. The angels from his visage splendid Draw power, whose measure none can say; The lofty works, uncomprehended, Are bright as on the earliest day. GABRIEL And swift, and swift beyond conceiving, The splendor of the world goes round, Day's Eden-brightness still relieving The awful Night's intense profound: The ocean-tides in foam are breaking, Against the rocks' deep bases hurled, And both, the spheric race partaking, Eternal, swift, are onward whirled! MICHAEL And rival storms abroad are surging From sea to land, from land to sea. A chain of deepest action forging Round all, in wrathful energy. There flames a desolation, blazing Before the Thunder's crashing way: Yet, Lord, Thy messengers are praising The gentle movement of Thy Day. THE THREE Though still by them uncomprehended, From these the angels draw their power, And all Thy works, sublime and splendid, Are bright as in Creation's hour. MEPHISTOPHELES Since Thou, O Lord, deign'st to approach again And ask us how we do, in manner kindest, And heretofore to meet myself wert fain, Among Thy menials, now, my face Thou findest. Pardon, this troop I cannot follow after With lofty speech, though by them scorned and spurned: My pathos certainly would move Thy laughter, If Thou hadst not all merriment unlearned. Of suns and worlds I've nothing to be quoted; How men torment themselves, is all I've noted. The little god o' the world sticks to the same old way, And is as whimsical as on Creation's day. Life somewhat better might content him, But for the gleam of heavenly light which Thou hast lent him: He calls it Reason--thence his power's increased, To be far beastlier than any beast. Saving Thy Gracious Presence, he to me A long-legged grasshopper appears to be, That springing flies, and flying springs, And in the grass the same old ditty sings. Would he still lay among the grass he grows in! Each bit of dung he seeks, to stick his nose in. THE LORD Hast thou, then, nothing more to mention? Com'st ever, thus, with ill intention? Find'st nothing right on earth, eternally? MEPHISTOPHELES No, Lord! I find things, there, still bad as they can be. Man's misery even to pity moves my nature; I've scarce the heart to plague the wretched creature. THE LORD Know'st Faust? MEPHISTOPHELES The Doctor Faust? THE LORD My servant, he! MEPHISTOPHELES Forsooth! He serves you after strange devices: No earthly meat or drink the fool suffices: His spirit's ferment far aspireth; Half conscious of his frenzied, crazed unrest, The fairest stars from Heaven he requireth, From Earth the highest raptures and the best, And all the Near and Far that he desireth Fails to subdue the tumult of his breast. THE LORD Though still confused his service unto Me, I soon shall lead him to a clearer morning. Sees not the gardener, even while buds his tree, Both flower and fruit the future years adorning? MEPHISTOPHELES What will you bet? There's still a chance to gain him, If unto me full leave you give, Gently upon _my_ road to train him! THE LORD As long as he on earth shall live, So long I make no prohibition. While Man's desires and aspirations stir, He cannot choose but err. MEPHISTOPHELES My thanks! I find the dead no acquisition, And never cared to have them in my keeping. I much prefer the cheeks where ruddy blood is leaping, And when a corpse approaches, close my house: It goes with me, as with the cat the mouse. THE LORD Enough! What thou hast asked is granted. Turn off this spirit from his fountain-head; To trap him, let thy snares be planted, And him, with thee, be downward led; Then stand abashed, when thou art forced to say: A good man, through obscurest aspiration, Has still an instinct of the one true way. MEPHISTOPHELES Agreed! But 'tis a short probation. About my bet I feel no trepidation. If I fulfill my expectation, You'll let me triumph with a swelling breast: Dust shall he eat, and with a zest, As did a certain snake, my near relation. THE LORD Therein thou'rt free, according to thy merits; The like of thee have never moved My hate. Of all the bold, denying Spirits, The waggish knave least trouble doth create. Man's active nature, flagging, seeks too soon the level; Unqualified repose he learns to crave; Whence, willingly, the comrade him I gave, Who works, excites, and must create, as Devil. But ye, God's sons in love and duty, Enjoy the rich, the ever-living Beauty! Creative Power, that works eternal schemes, Clasp you in bonds of love, relaxing never, And what in wavering apparition gleams Fix in its place with thoughts that stand forever! (_Heaven closes: the_ ARCHANGELS _separate_.) MEPHISTOPHELES (_solus_) I like, at times, to hear The Ancient's word, And have a care to be most civil: It's really kind of such a noble Lord So humanly to gossip with the Devil! [Illustration] [Illustration] FIRST PART OF THE TRAGEDY I NIGHT (_A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber_. FAUST, _in a chair at his desk, restless_.) FAUST I've studied now Philosophy And Jurisprudence, Medicine,-- And even, alas! Theology,-- From end to end, with labor keen; And here, poor fool! with all my lore I stand, no wiser than before: I'm Magister--yea, Doctor--hight, And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right, These ten years long, with many woes, I've led my scholars by the nose,-- And see, that nothing can be known! _That_ knowledge cuts me to the bone. I'm cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers, Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers; Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me, Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me. For this, all pleasure am I foregoing; I do not pretend to aught worth knowing, I do not pretend I could be a teacher To help or convert a fellow-creature. Then, too, I've neither lands nor gold, Nor the world's least pomp or honor hold-- No dog would endure such a curst existence! Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance, That many a secret perchance I reach Through spirit-power and spirit-speech, And thus the bitter task forego Of saying the things I do not know,-- That I may detect the inmost force Which binds the world, and guides its course; Its germs, productive powers explore, And rummage in empty words no more! O full and splendid Moon, whom I Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky So many a midnight,--would thy glow For the last time beheld my woe! Ever thine eye, most mournful friend, O'er books and papers saw me bend; But would that I, on mountains grand, Amid thy blessed light could stand, With spirits through mountain-caverns hover, Float in thy twilight the meadows over, And, freed from the fumes of lore that swathe me, To health in thy dewy fountains bathe me! Ah, me! this dungeon still I see. This drear, accursed masonry, Where even the welcome daylight strains But duskly through the painted panes. Hemmed in by many a toppling heap Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust, Which to the vaulted ceiling creep, Against the smoky paper thrust,-- With glasses, boxes, round me stacked, And instruments together hurled, Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed-- Such is my world: and what a world! And do I ask, wherefore my heart Falters, oppressed with unknown needs? Why some inexplicable smart All movement of my life impedes? Alas! in living Nature's stead, Where God His human creature set, In smoke and mould the fleshless dead And bones of beasts surround me yet! Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land! And this one Book of Mystery From Nostradamus' very hand, Is't not sufficient company? When I the starry courses know, And Nature's wise instruction seek, With light of power my soul shall glow, As when to spirits spirits speak. Tis vain, this empty brooding here, Though guessed the holy symbols be: Ye, Spirits, come--ye hover near-- Oh, if you hear me, answer me! (_He opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macrocosm_.) Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing! I feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss In every vein and fibre newly glowing. Was it a God, who traced this sign, With calm across my tumult stealing, My troubled heart to joy unsealing, With impulse, mystic and divine, The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing? Am I a God?--so clear mine eyes! In these pure features I behold Creative Nature to my soul unfold. What says the sage, now first I recognize: "The spirit-world no closures fasten; Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead: Disciple, up! untiring, hasten To bathe thy breast in morning-red!" (_He contemplates the sign_.) How each the Whole its substance gives, Each in the other works and lives! Like heavenly forces rising and descending, Their golden urns reciprocally lending, With wings that winnow blessing From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing, Filling the All with harmony unceasing! How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone. Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own? Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining, Whereon hang Heaven's and Earth's desire, Whereto our withered hearts aspire,-- Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining? (_He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the Earth-Spirit_.) How otherwise upon me works this sign! Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer: Even now my powers are loftier, clearer; I glow, as drunk with new-made wine: New strength and heart to meet the world incite me, The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me, And though the shock of storms may smite me, No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me! Clouds gather over me-- The moon conceals her light-- The lamp's extinguished!-- Mists rise,--red, angry rays are darting Around my head!--There falls A horror from the vaulted roof, And seizes me! I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke! Reveal thyself! Ha! in my heart what rending stroke! With new impulsion My senses heave in this convulsion! I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me: Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me! (_He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in the flame_.) SPIRIT Who calls me? FAUST (_with averted head_) Terrible to see! SPIRIT Me hast thou long with might attracted, Long from my sphere thy food exacted, And now-- FAUST Woe! I endure not thee! SPIRIT To view me is thine aspiration, My voice to hear, my countenance to see; Thy powerful yearning moveth me, Here am I!--what mean perturbation Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul's high calling, where? Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear, And shaped and cherished--which with joy expanded, To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded? Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me, Who towards me pressed with all thine energy? _He_ art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing, Trembles through all the depths of being, A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form? FAUST Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear? Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer! SPIRIT In the tides of Life, in Action's storm, A fluctuant wave, A shuttle free, Birth and the Grave, An eternal sea, A weaving, flowing Life, all-glowing, Thus at Time's humming loom 'tis my hand prepares The garment of Life which the Deity wears! FAUST Thou, who around the wide world wendest, Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee! SPIRIT Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, Not me! (_Disappears_.) FAUST (_overwhelmed_) Not thee! Whom then? I, image of the Godhead! Not even like thee! (_A knock_). O Death!--I know it--'tis my Famulus! My fairest luck finds no fruition: In all the fullness of my vision The soulless sneak disturbs me thus! (_Enter_ WAGNER_, in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in his hand. _FAUST_ turns impatiently_.) WAGNER Pardon, I heard your declamation; 'Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read? In such an art I crave some preparation, Since now it stands one in good stead. I've often heard it said, a preacher Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher. FAUST Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature, As haply now and then the case may be. WAGNER Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature, That scarce the world on holidays can see,-- Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion, How shall one lead it by persuasion? FAUST You'll ne'er attain it, save you know the feeling, Save from the soul it rises clear, Serene in primal strength, compelling The hearts and minds of all who hear. You sit forever gluing, patching; You cook the scraps from others' fare; And from your heap of ashes hatching A starveling flame, ye blow it bare! Take children's, monkeys' gaze admiring, If such your taste, and be content; But ne'er from heart to heart you'll speak inspiring, Save your own heart is eloquent! WAGNER Yet through delivery orators succeed; I feel that I am far behind, indeed. FAUST Seek thou the honest recompense! Beware, a tinkling fool to be! With little art, clear wit and sense Suggest their own delivery; And if thou'rt moved to speak in earnest, What need, that after words thou yearnest? Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show, Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper, Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor! WAGNER Ah, God! but Art is long, And Life, alas! is fleeting. And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting, In head and breast there's something wrong. How hard it is to compass the assistance Whereby one rises to the source! And, haply, ere one travels half the course Must the poor devil quit existence. FAUST Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee, A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes? No true refreshment can restore thee, Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks. WAGNER Pardon! a great delight is granted When, in the spirit of the ages planted, We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought, And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought. FAUST O yes, up to the stars at last! Listen, my friend: the ages that are past Are now a book with seven seals protected: What you the Spirit of the Ages call Is nothing but the spirit of you all, Wherein the Ages are reflected. So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it! At the first glance who sees it runs away. An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret, Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play, With maxims most pragmatical and hitting, As in the mouths of puppets are befitting! WAGNER But then, the world--the human heart and brain! Of these one covets some slight apprehension. FAUST Yes, of the kind which men attain! Who dares the child's true name in public mention? The few, who thereof something really learned, Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing, And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling, Have evermore been crucified and burned. I pray you, Friend, 'tis now the dead of night; Our converse here must be suspended. WAGNER I would have shared your watches with delight, That so our learned talk might be extended. To-morrow, though, I'll ask, in Easter leisure, This and the other question, at your pleasure. Most zealously I seek for erudition: Much do I know--but to know all is my ambition. [_Exit_. FAUST (_solus_) That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is To stick in shallow trash forevermore,-- Which digs with eager hand for buried ore, And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices! Dare such a human voice disturb the flow, Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest? And yet, this once my thanks I owe To thee, of all earth's sons the poorest, dullest! For thou hast torn me from that desperate state Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses: The apparition was so giant-great, It dwarfed and withered all my soul's pretences! I, image of the Godhead, who began-- Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness-- Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant, Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant Sang, God's new Covenant repeating? CHORUS OF WOMEN With spices and precious Balm, we arrayed him; Faithful and gracious, We tenderly laid him: Linen to bind him Cleanlily wound we: Ah! when we would find him, Christ no more found we! CHORUS OF ANGELS Christ is ascended! Bliss hath invested him,-- Woes that molested him, Trials that tested him, Gloriously ended! FAUST Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell, Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven? Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell. Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; The dearest child of Faith is Miracle. I venture not to soar to yonder regions Whence the glad tidings hither float; And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note, To Life it now renews the old allegiance. Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy; And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell slowly, And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss. A sweet, uncomprehended yearning Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free, And while a thousand tears were burning, I felt a world arise for me. These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing, Proclaimed the Spring's rejoicing holiday; And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling, Back from the last, the solemn way. Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild! My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child! CHORUS OF DISCIPLES Has He, victoriously, Burst from the vaulted Grave, and all-gloriously Now sits exalted? Is He, in glow of birth, Rapture creative near? Ah! to the woe of earth Still are we native here. We, his aspiring Followers, Him we miss; Weeping, desiring, Master, Thy bliss! CHORUS OF ANGELS Christ is arisen, Out of Corruption's womb: Burst ye the prison, Break from your gloom! Praising and pleading him, Lovingly needing him, Brotherly feeding him, Preaching and speeding him, Blessing, succeeding Him, Thus is the Master near,-- Thus is He here! [Illustration] II BEFORE THE CITY-GATE (_Pedestrians of all kinds come forth_.) SEVERAL APPRENTICES Why do you go that way? OTHERS We're for the Hunters' lodge, to-day. THE FIRST We'll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow. AN APPRENTICE Go to the River Tavern, I should say. SECOND APPRENTICE But then, it's not a pleasant way. THE OTHERS And what will _you_? A THIRD As goes the crowd, I follow. A FOURTH Come up to Burgdorf? There you'll find good cheer, The finest lasses and the best of beer, And jolly rows and squabbles, trust me! A FIFTH You swaggering fellow, is your hide A third time itching to be tried? I won't go there, your jolly rows disgust me! SERVANT-GIRL No,--no! I'll turn and go to town again. ANOTHER We'll surely find him by those poplars yonder. THE FIRST That's no great luck for me, 'tis plain. You'll have him, when and where you wander: His partner in the dance you'll be,-- But what is all your fun to me? THE OTHER He's surely not alone to-day: He'll be with Curly-head, I heard him say. A STUDENT Deuce! how they step, the buxom wenches! Come, Brother! we must see them to the benches. A strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites, A girl in Sunday clothes,--these three are my delights. CITIZEN'S DAUGHTER Just see those handsome fellows, there! It's really shameful, I declare;-- To follow servant-girls, when they Might have the most genteel society to-day! SECOND STUDENT (_to the First_) Not quite so fast! Two others come behind,-- Those, dressed so prettily and neatly. My neighbor's one of them, I find, A girl that takes my heart, completely. They go their way with looks demure, But they'll accept us, after all, I'm sure. THE FIRST No, Brother! not for me their formal ways. Quick! lest our game escape us in the press: The hand that wields the broom on Saturdays Will best, on Sundays, fondle and caress. CITIZEN He suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster! Since he's installed, his arrogance grows faster. How has he helped the town, I say? Things worsen,--what improvement names he? Obedience, more than ever, claims he, And more than ever we must pay! BEGGAR (_sings_) Good gentlemen and lovely ladies, So red of cheek and fine of dress, Behold, how needful here your aid is, And see and lighten my distress! Let me not vainly sing my ditty; He's only glad who gives away: A holiday, that shows your pity, Shall be for me a harvest-day! ANOTHER CITIZEN On Sundays, holidays, there's naught I take delight in, Like gossiping of war, and war's array, When down in Turkey, far away, The foreign people are a-fighting. One at the window sits, with glass and friends, And sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding: And blesses then, as home he wends At night, our times of peace abiding. THIRD CITIZEN Yes, Neighbor! that's my notion, too: Why, let them break their heads, let loose their passions, And mix things madly through and through, So, here, we keep our good old fashions! OLD WOMAN (_to the Citizen's Daughter_) Dear me, how fine! So handsome, and so young! Who wouldn't lose his heart, that met you? Don't be so proud! I'll hold my tongue, And what you'd like I'll undertake to get you. CITIZEN'S DAUGHTER Come, Agatha! I shun the witch's sight Before folks, lest there be misgiving: 'Tis true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew's Night, My future sweetheart, just as he were living. THE OTHER She showed me mine, in crystal clear, With several wild young blades, a soldier-lover: I seek him everywhere, I pry and peer, And yet, somehow, his face I can't discover. SOLDIERS Castles, with lofty Ramparts and towers, Maidens disdainful In Beauty's array, Both shall be ours! Bold is the venture, Splendid the pay! Lads, let the trumpets For us be suing,-- Calling to pleasure, Calling to ruin. Stormy our life is; Such is its boon! Maidens and castles Capitulate soon. Bold is the venture, Splendid the pay! And the soldiers go marching, Marching away! FAUST AND WAGNER FAUST Released from ice are brook and river By the quickening glance of the gracious Spring; The colors of hope to the valley cling, And weak old Winter himself must shiver, Withdrawn to the mountains, a crownless king: Whence, ever retreating, he sends again Impotent showers of sleet that darkle In belts across the green o' the plain. But the sun will permit no white to sparkle; Everywhere form in development moveth; He will brighten the world with the tints he loveth, And, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red, He takes these gaudy people instead. Turn thee about, and from this height Back on the town direct thy sight. Out of the hollow, gloomy gate, The motley throngs come forth elate: Each will the joy of the sunshine hoard, To honor the Day of the Risen Lord! They feel, themselves, their resurrection: From the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable; From the bonds of Work, from Trade's restriction; From the pressing weight of roof and gable; From the narrow, crushing streets and alleys; From the churches' solemn and reverend night, All come forth to the cheerful light. How lively, see! the multitude sallies, Scattering through gardens and fields remote, While over the river, that broadly dallies, Dances so many a festive boat; And overladen, nigh to sinking, The last full wherry takes the stream. Yonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking, Their clothes are colors that softly gleam. I hear the noise of the village, even; Here is the People's proper Heaven; Here high and low contented see! Here I am Man,--dare man to be! WAGNER To stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters; 'Tis honor, profit, unto me. But I, alone, would shun these shallow matters, Since all that's coarse provokes my enmity. This fiddling, shouting, ten-pin rolling I hate,--these noises of the throng: They rave, as Satan were their sports controlling. And call it mirth, and call it song! PEASANTS, UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE (_Dance and Song_.) All for the dance the shepherd dressed, In ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest Himself with care arraying: Around the linden lass and lad Already footed it like mad: Hurrah! hurrah! Hurrah--tarara-la! The fiddle-bow was playing. He broke the ranks, no whit afraid, And with his elbow punched a maid, Who stood, the dance surveying: The buxom wench, she turned and said: "Now, you I call a stupid-head!" Hurrah! hurrah! Hurrah--tarara-la! "Be decent while you're staying!" Then round the circle went their flight, They danced to left, they danced to right: Their kirtles all were playing. They first grew red, and then grew warm, And rested, panting, arm in arm,-- Hurrah! hurrah! Hurrah--tarara-la! And hips and elbows straying. Now, don't be so familiar here! How many a one has fooled his dear, Waylaying and betraying! And yet, he coaxed her soon aside, And round the linden sounded wide. Hurrah! hurrah! Hurrah--tarara-la! And the fiddle-bow was playing. OLD PEASANT Sir Doctor, it is good of you, That thus you condescend, to-day, Among this crowd of merry folk, A highly-learned man, to stray. Then also take the finest can, We fill with fresh wine, for your sake: I offer it, and humbly wish That not alone your thirst is slake,-- That, as the drops below its brink, So many days of life you drink! FAUST I take the cup you kindly reach, With thanks and health to all and each. (_The People gather in a circle about him_.) OLD PEASANT In truth, 'tis well and fitly timed, That now our day of joy you share, Who heretofore, in evil days, Gave us so much of helping care. Still many a man stands living here, Saved by your father's skillful hand, That snatched him from the fever's rage And stayed the plague in all the land. Then also you, though but a youth, Went into every house of pain: Many the corpses carried forth, But you in health came out again. FAUST No test or trial you evaded: A Helping God the helper aided. ALL Health to the man, so skilled and tried. That for our help he long may abide! FAUST To Him above bow down, my friends, Who teaches help, and succor sends! (_He goes on with_ WAGNER.) WAGNER With what a feeling, thou great man, must thou Receive the people's honest veneration! How lucky he, whose gifts his station With such advantages endow! Thou'rt shown to all the younger generation: Each asks, and presses near to gaze; The fiddle stops, the dance delays. Thou goest, they stand in rows to see, And all the caps are lifted high; A little more, and they would bend the knee As if the Holy Host came by. FAUST A few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone!-- Here from our wandering will we rest contented. Here, lost in thought, I've lingered oft alone, When foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented. Here, rich in hope and firm in faith, With tears, wrung hands and sighs, I've striven, The end of that far-spreading death Entreating from the Lord of Heaven! Now like contempt the crowd's applauses seem: Couldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit, How little now I deem, That sire or son such praises merit! My father's was a sombre, brooding brain, Which through the holy spheres of Nature groped and wandered, And honestly, in his own fashion, pondered With labor whimsical, and pain: Who, in his dusky work-shop bending, With proved adepts in company, Made, from his recipes unending, Opposing substances agree. There was a Lion red, a wooer daring, Within the Lily's tepid bath espoused, And both, tormented then by flame unsparing, By turns in either bridal chamber housed. If then appeared, with colors splendid, The young Queen in her crystal shell, This was the medicine--the patients' woes soon ended, And none demanded: who got well? Thus we, our hellish boluses compounding, Among these vales and hills surrounding, Worse than the pestilence, have passed. Thousands were done to death from poison of my giving; And I must hear, by all the living, The shameless murderers praised at last! WAGNER Why, therefore, yield to such depression? A good man does his honest share In exercising, with the strictest care, The art bequeathed to his possession! Dost thou thy father honor, as a youth? Then may his teaching cheerfully impel thee: Dost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth? Then may thine own son afterwards excel thee. FAUST O happy he, who still renews The hope, from Error's deeps to rise forever! That which one does not know, one needs to use; And what one knows, one uses never. But let us not, by such despondence, so The fortune of this hour embitter! Mark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow, The green-embosomed houses glitter! The glow retreats, done is the day of toil; It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring; Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil, Upon its track to follow, follow soaring! Then would I see eternal Evening gild The silent world beneath me glowing, On fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled, The silver brook to golden rivers flowing. The mountain-chain, with all its gorges deep, Would then no more impede my godlike motion; And now before mine eyes expands the ocean With all its bays, in shining sleep! Yet, finally, the weary god is sinking; The new-born impulse fires my mind,-- I hasten on, his beams eternal drinking, The Day before me and the Night behind, Above me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me,-- A glorious dream! though now the glories fade. Alas! the wings that lift the mind no aid Of wings to lift the body can bequeath me. Yet in each soul is born the pleasure Of yearning onward, upward and away, When o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure, The lark sends down his flickering lay,-- When over crags and piny highlands The poising eagle slowly soars, And over plains and lakes and islands The crane sails by to other shores. WAGNER I've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices, But never yet such impulse felt, as this is. One soon fatigues, on woods and fields to look, Nor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us: How otherwise the mental raptures bear us From page to page, from book to book! Then winter nights take loveliness untold, As warmer life in every limb had crowned you; And when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old, All Heaven descends, and opens bright around you! FAUST One impulse art thou conscious of, at best; O, never seek to know the other! Two souls, alas! reside within my breast, And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother. One with tenacious organs holds in love And clinging lust the world in its embraces; The other strongly sweeps, this dust above, Into the high ancestral spaces. If there be airy spirits near, 'Twixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing, Let them drop down the golden atmosphere, And bear me forth to new and varied being! Yea, if a magic mantle once were mine, To waft me o'er the world at pleasure, I would not for the costliest stores of treasure-- Not for a monarch's robe--the gift resign. WAGNER Invoke not thus the well-known throng, Which through the firmament diffused is faring, And danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong. In every quarter is preparing. Swift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp Sweep down, and with their barbéd points assail you; Then from the East they come, to dry and warp Your lungs, till breath and being fail you: If from the Desert sendeth them the South, With fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning, The West leads on a host, to cure the drouth Only when meadow, field, and you are drowning. They gladly hearken, prompt for injury,-- Gladly obey, because they gladly cheat us; From Heaven they represent themselves to be, And lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us. But, let us go! 'Tis gray and dusky all: The air is cold, the vapors fall. At night, one learns his house to prize:-- Why stand you thus, with such astonished eyes? What, in the twilight, can your mind so trouble? FAUST Seest thou the black dog coursing there, through corn and stubble? WAGNER Long since: yet deemed him not important in the least. FAUST Inspect him close: for what tak'st thou the beast? WAGNER Why, for a poodle who has lost his master, And scents about, his track to find. FAUST Seest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster, Which he, approaching, round us seems to wind? A streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly, Follows his path of mystery. WAGNER It may be that your eyes deceive you slightly; Naught but a plain black poodle do I see. FAUST It seems to me that with enchanted cunning He snares our feet, some future chain to bind. WAGNER I see him timidly, in doubt, around us running, Since, in his master's stead, two strangers doth he find. FAUST The circle narrows: he is near! WAGNER A dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here! Behold him stop--upon his belly crawl--His tail set wagging: canine habits, all! FAUST Come, follow us! Come here, at least! WAGNER 'Tis the absurdest, drollest beast. Stand still, and you will see him wait; Address him, and he gambols straight; If something's lost, he'll quickly bring it,-- Your cane, if in the stream you fling it. FAUST No doubt you're right: no trace of mind, I own, Is in the beast: I see but drill, alone. WAGNER The dog, when he's well educated, Is by the wisest tolerated. Yes, he deserves your favor thoroughly,-- The clever scholar of the students, he! (_They pass in the city-gate_.) [Illustration] [Illustration] III THE STUDY FAUST (_Entering, with the poodle_.) Behind me, field and meadow sleeping, I leave in deep, prophetic night, Within whose dread and holy keeping The better soul awakes to light. The wild desires no longer win us, The deeds of passion cease to chain; The love of Man revives within us, The love of God revives again. Be still, thou poodle; make not such racket and riot! Why at the threshold wilt snuffing be? Behind the stove repose thee in quiet! My softest cushion I give to thee. As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping Amused us hast, on the mountain's crest, So now I take thee into my keeping, A welcome, but also a silent, guest. Ah, when, within our narrow chamber The lamp with friendly lustre glows, Flames in the breast each faded ember, And in the heart, itself that knows. Then Hope again lends sweet assistance, And Reason then resumes her speech: One yearns, the rivers of existence, The very founts of Life, to reach. Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises, The sacred tones that my soul embrace, This bestial noise is out of place. We are used to see, that Man despises What he never comprehends, And the Good and the Beautiful vilipends, Finding them often hard to measure: Will the dog, like man, snarl _his_ displeasure? But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger, Contentment flows from out my breast no longer. Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us, And burning thirst again assail us? Therein I've borne so much probation! And yet, this want may be supplied us; We call the Supernatural to guide us; We pine and thirst for Revelation, Which nowhere worthier is, more nobly sent, Than here, in our New Testament. I feel impelled, its meaning to determine,-- With honest purpose, once for all, The hallowed Original To change to my beloved German. (_He opens a volume, and commences_.) 'Tis written: "In the Beginning was the _Word_." Here am I balked: who, now can help afford? The _Word?_--impossible so high to rate it; And otherwise must I translate it. If by the Spirit I am truly taught. Then thus: "In the Beginning was the _Thought_" This first line let me weigh completely, Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly. Is it the _Thought_ which works, creates, indeed? "In the Beginning was the _Power,"_ I read. Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested, That I the sense may not have fairly tested. The Spirit aids me: now I see the light! "In the Beginning was the _Act_," I write. If I must share my chamber with thee, Poodle, stop that howling, prithee! Cease to bark and bellow! Such a noisy, disturbing fellow I'll no longer suffer near me. One of us, dost hear me! Must leave, I fear me. No longer guest-right I bestow; The door is open, art free to go. But what do I see in the creature? Is that in the course of nature? Is't actual fact? or Fancy's shows? How long and broad my poodle grows! He rises mightily: A canine form that cannot be! What a spectre I've harbored thus! He resembles a hippopotamus, With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see: O, now am I sure of thee! For all of thy half-hellish brood The Key of Solomon is good. SPIRITS (_in the corridor_) Some one, within, is caught! Stay without, follow him not! Like the fox in a snare, Quakes the old hell-lynx there. Take heed--look about! Back and forth hover, Under and over, And he'll work himself out. If your aid avail him, Let it not fail him; For he, without measure, Has wrought for our pleasure. FAUST First, to encounter the beast, The Words of the Four be addressed: Salamander, shine glorious! Wave, Undine, as bidden! Sylph, be thou hidden! Gnome, be laborious! Who knows not their sense (These elements),-- Their properties And power not sees,-- No mastery he inherits Over the Spirits. Vanish in flaming ether, Salamander! Flow foamingly together, Undine! Shine in meteor-sheen, Sylph! Bring help to hearth and shelf. Incubus! Incubus! Step forward, and finish thus! Of the Four, no feature Lurks in the creature. Quiet he lies, and grins disdain: Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain. Now, to undisguise thee, Hear me exorcise thee! Art thou, my gay one, Hell's fugitive stray-one? The sign witness now, Before which they bow, The cohorts of Hell! With hair all bristling, it begins to swell. Base Being, hearest thou? Knowest and fearest thou The One, unoriginate, Named inexpressibly, Through all Heaven impermeate, Pierced irredressibly! Behind the stove still banned, See it, an elephant, expand! It fills the space entire, Mist-like melting, ever faster. 'Tis enough: ascend no higher,-- Lay thyself at the feet of the Master! Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee: With holy fire I'll scorch and sting thee! Wait not to know The threefold dazzling glow! Wait not to know The strongest art within my hands! MEPHISTOPHELES (_while the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the stove, in the costume of a Travelling Scholar_.) Why such a noise? What are my lord's commands? FAUST This was the poodle's real core, A travelling scholar, then? The _casus_ is diverting. MEPHISTOPHELES The learned gentleman I bow before: You've made me roundly sweat, that's certain! FAUST What is thy name? MEPHISTOPHELES A question small, it seems, For one whose mind the Word so much despises; Who, scorning all external gleams, The depths of being only prizes. FAUST With all you gentlemen, the name's a test, Whereby the nature usually is expressed. Clearly the latter it implies In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies. Who art thou, then? MEPHISTOPHELES Part of that Power, not understood, Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good. FAUST What hidden sense in this enigma lies? MEPHISTOPHELES I am the Spirit that Denies! And justly so: for all things, from the Void Called forth, deserve to be destroyed: 'Twere better, then, were naught created. Thus, all which you as Sin have rated,-- Destruction,--aught with Evil blent,-- That is my proper element. FAUST Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet show'st complete to me? MEPHISTOPHELES The modest truth I speak to thee. If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see Himself a whole so frequently, Part of the Part am I, once All, in primal Night,-- Part of the Darkness which brought forth the Light, The haughty Light, which now disputes the space, And claims of Mother Night her ancient place. And yet, the struggle fails; since Light, howe'er it weaves, Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves: It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies; By bodies is its course impeded; And so, but little time is needed, I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies! FAUST I see the plan thou art pursuing: Thou canst not compass general ruin, And hast on smaller scale begun. MEPHISTOPHELES And truly 'tis not much, when all is done. That which to Naught is in resistance set,-- The Something of this clumsy world,--has yet, With all that I have undertaken, Not been by me disturbed or shaken: From earthquake, tempest, wave, volcano's brand, Back into quiet settle sea and land! And that damned stuff, the bestial, human brood,-- What use, in having that to play with? How many have I made away with! And ever circulates a newer, fresher blood. It makes me furious, such things beholding: From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding, A thousand germs break forth and grow, In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly; And had I not the Flame reserved, why, really, There's nothing special of my own to show! FAUST So, to the actively eternal Creative force, in cold disdain You now oppose the fist infernal, Whose wicked clench is all in vain! Some other labor seek thou rather, Queer Son of Chaos, to begin! MEPHISTOPHELES Well, we'll consider: thou canst gather My views, when next I venture in. Might I, perhaps, depart at present? FAUST Why thou shouldst ask, I don't perceive. Though our acquaintance is so recent, For further visits thou hast leave. The window's here, the door is yonder; A chimney, also, you behold. MEPHISTOPHELES I must confess that forth I may not wander, My steps by one slight obstacle controlled,-- The wizard's-foot, that on your threshold made is. FAUST The pentagram prohibits thee? Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades, If that prevents, how cam'st thou in to me? Could such a spirit be so cheated? MEPHISTOPHELES Inspect the thing: the drawing's not completed. The outer angle, you may see, Is open left--the lines don't fit it. FAUST Well,--Chance, this time, has fairly hit it! And thus, thou'rt prisoner to me? It seems the business has succeeded. MEPHISTOPHELES The poodle naught remarked, as after thee he speeded; But other aspects now obtain: The Devil can't get out again. FAUST Try, then, the open window-pane! MEPHISTOPHELES For Devils and for spectres this is law: Where they have entered in, there also they withdraw. The first is free to us; we're governed by the second. FAUST In Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned? That's well! So might a compact be Made with you gentlemen--and binding,--surely? MEPHISTOPHELES All that is promised shall delight thee purely; No skinflint bargain shalt thou see. But this is not of swift conclusion; We'll talk about the matter soon. And now, I do entreat this boon-- Leave to withdraw from my intrusion. FAUST One moment more I ask thee to remain, Some pleasant news, at least, to tell me. MEPHISTOPHELES Release me, now! I soon shall come again; Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me. FAUST I have not snares around thee cast; Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes. Who traps the Devil, hold him fast! Not soon a second time he'll catch a prey so precious. MEPHISTOPHELES An't please thee, also I'm content to stay, And serve thee in a social station; But stipulating, that I may With arts of mine afford thee recreation. FAUST Thereto I willingly agree, If the diversion pleasant be. MEPHISTOPHELES My friend, thou'lt win, past all pretences, More in this hour to soothe thy senses, Than in the year's monotony. That which the dainty spirits sing thee, The lovely pictures they shall bring thee, Are more than magic's empty show. Thy scent will be to bliss invited; Thy palate then with taste delighted, Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow! All unprepared, the charm I spin: We're here together, so begin! SPIRITS Vanish, ye darking Arches above him! Loveliest weather, Born of blue ether, Break from the sky! O that the darkling Clouds had departed! Starlight is sparkling, Tranquiller-hearted Suns are on high. Heaven's own children In beauty bewildering, Waveringly bending, Pass as they hover; Longing unending Follows them over. They, with their glowing Garments, out-flowing, Cover, in going, Landscape and bower, Where, in seclusion, Lovers are plighted, Lost in illusion. Bower on bower! Tendrils unblighted! Lo! in a shower Grapes that o'ercluster Gush into must, or Flow into rivers Of foaming and flashing Wine, that is dashing Gems, as it boundeth Down the high places, And spreading, surroundeth With crystalline spaces, In happy embraces, Blossoming forelands, Emerald shore-lands! And the winged races Drink, and fly onward-- Fly ever sunward To the enticing Islands, that flatter, Dipping and rising Light on the water! Hark, the inspiring Sound of their quiring! See, the entrancing Whirl of their dancing! All in the air are Freer and fairer. Some of them scaling Boldly the highlands, Others are sailing, Circling the islands; Others are flying; Life-ward all hieing,-- All for the distant Star of existent Rapture and Love! MEPHISTOPHELES He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number Have sung him truly into slumber: For this performance I your debtor prove.-- Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him!-- With fairest images of dreams infold him, Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth! Yet, for the threshold's magic which controlled him, The Devil needs a rat's quick tooth. I use no lengthened invocation: Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation. The lord of rats and eke of mice, Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice, Summons thee hither to the door-sill, To gnaw it where, with just a morsel Of oil, he paints the spot for thee:-- There com'st thou, hopping on to me! To work, at once! The point which made me craven Is forward, on the ledge, engraven. Another bite makes free the door: So, dream thy dreams, O Faust, until we meet once more! FAUST _(awaking)_ Am I again so foully cheated? Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway, But that a dream the Devil counterfeited, And that a poodle ran away? [Illustration] IV THE STUDY FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST A knock? Come in! Again my quiet broken? MEPHISTOPHELES 'Tis I! FAUST Come in! MEPHISTOPHELES Thrice must the words be spoken. FAUST Come in, then! MEPHISTOPHELES Thus thou pleasest me. I hope we'll suit each other well; For now, thy vapors to dispel, I come, a squire of high degree, In scarlet coat, with golden trimming, A cloak in silken lustre swimming, A tall cock's-feather in my hat, A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel,-- And I advise thee, brief and flat, To don the self-same gay apparel, That, from this den released, and free, Life be at last revealed to thee! FAUST This life of earth, whatever my attire, Would pain me in its wonted fashion. Too old am I to play with passion; Too young, to be without desire. What from the world have I to gain? Thou shalt abstain--renounce--refrain! Such is the everlasting song That in the ears of all men rings,-- That unrelieved, our whole life long, Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings. In very terror I at morn awake, Upon the verge of bitter weeping, To see the day of disappointment break, To no one hope of mine--not one--its promise keeping:-- That even each joy's presentiment With wilful cavil would diminish, With grinning masks of life prevent My mind its fairest work to finish! Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously Upon my couch of sleep I lay me: There, also, comes no rest to me, But some wild dream is sent to fray me. The God that in my breast is owned Can deeply stir the inner sources; The God, above my powers enthroned, He cannot change external forces. So, by the burden of my days oppressed, Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest! MEPHISTOPHELES And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest. FAUST O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances, The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth! Whom, after rapid, maddening dances, In clasping maiden-arms he findeth! O would that I, before that spirit-power, Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken! MEPHISTOPHELES And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour, A certain liquid was not drunken. FAUST Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be. MEPHISTOPHELES Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me. FAUST Though some familiar tone, retrieving My thoughts from torment, led me on, And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving A faith bequeathed from Childhood's dawn, Yet now I curse whate'er entices And snares the soul with visions vain; With dazzling cheats and dear devices Confines it in this cave of pain! Cursed be, at once, the high ambition Wherewith the mind itself deludes! Cursed be the glare of apparition That on the finer sense intrudes! Cursed be the lying dream's impression Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow! Cursed, all that flatters as possession, As wife and child, as knave and plow! Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures To restless action spurs our fate! Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures, He lays for us the pillows straight! Cursed be the vine's transcendent nectar,-- The highest favor Love lets fall! Cursed, also, Hope!--cursed Faith, the spectre! And cursed be Patience most of all! CHORUS OF SPIRITS (_invisible_) Woe! woe! Thou hast it destroyed, The beautiful world, With powerful fist: In ruin 'tis hurled, By the blow of a demigod shattered! The scattered Fragments into the Void we carry, Deploring The beauty perished beyond restoring. Mightier For the children of men, Brightlier Build it again, In thine own bosom build it anew! Bid the new career Commence, With clearer sense, And the new songs of cheer Be sung thereto! MEPHISTOPHELES These are the small dependants Who give me attendance. Hear them, to deeds and passion Counsel in shrewd old-fashion! Into the world of strife, Out of this lonely life That of senses and sap has betrayed thee, They would persuade thee. This nursing of the pain forego thee, That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast! The worst society thou find'st will show thee Thou art a man among the rest. But 'tis not meant to thrust Thee into the mob thou hatest! I am not one of the greatest, Yet, wilt thou to me entrust Thy steps through life, I'll guide thee,-- Will willingly walk beside thee,-- Will serve thee at once and forever With best endeavor, And, if thou art satisfied, Will as servant, slave, with thee abide. FAUST And what shall be my counter-service therefor? MEPHISTOPHELES The time is long: thou need'st not now insist. FAUST No--no! The Devil is an egotist, And is not apt, without a why or wherefore, "For God's sake," others to assist. Speak thy conditions plain and clear! With such a servant danger comes, I fear. MEPHISTOPHELES _Here_, an unwearied slave, I'll wear thy tether, And to thine every nod obedient be: When _There_ again we come together, Then shalt thou do the same for me. FAUST The _There_ my scruples naught increases. When thou hast dashed this world to pieces, The other, then, its place may fill. Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources; Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses; And when from these my life itself divorces, Let happen all that can or will! I'll hear no more: 'tis vain to ponder If there we cherish love or hate, Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder, A High and Low our souls await. MEPHISTOPHELES In this sense, even, canst thou venture. Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture, And thou mine arts with joy shalt see: What no man ever saw, I'll give to thee. FAUST Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever? When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor, E'er understood by such as thou? Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now,-- The restless, ruddy gold hast thou, That runs, quicksilver-like, one's fingers through,-- A game whose winnings no man ever knew,-- A maid that, even from my breast, Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances, And Honor's godlike zest, The meteor that a moment dances,-- Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot, And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them! MEPHISTOPHELES Such a demand alarms me not: Such treasures have I, and can show them. But still the time may reach us, good my friend. When peace we crave and more luxurious diet. FAUST When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet. There let, at once, my record end! Canst thou with lying flattery rule me, Until, self-pleased, myself I see,-- Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me, Let that day be the last for me! The bet I offer. MEPHISTOPHELES Done! FAUST And heartily! When thus I hail the Moment flying: "Ah, still delay--thou art so fair!" Then bind me in thy bonds undying, My final ruin then declare! Then let the death-bell chime the token. Then art thou from thy service free! The clock may stop, the hand be broken, Then Time be finished unto me! MEPHISTOPHELES Consider well: my memory good is rated. FAUST Thou hast a perfect right thereto. My powers I have not rashly estimated: A slave am I, whate'er I do-- If thine, or whose? 'tis needless to debate it. MEPHISTOPHELES Then at the Doctors'-banquet I, to-day, Will as a servant wait behind thee. But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee, Give me a line or two, I pray. FAUST Demand'st thou, Pedant, too, a document? Hast never known a man, nor proved his word's intent? Is't not enough, that what I speak to-day Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing? In all its tides sweeps not the world away, And shall a promise bind my being? Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear: Who would himself therefrom deliver? Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair! No sacrifice shall he repent of ever. Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care, A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor. The word, alas! dies even in the pen, And wax and leather keep the lordship then. What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say?-- Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay? The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated? I freely leave the choice to thee. MEPHISTOPHELES Why heat thyself, thus instantly, With eloquence exaggerated? Each leaf for such a pact is good; And to subscribe thy name thou'lt take a drop of blood. FAUST If thou therewith art fully satisfied, So let us by the farce abide. MEPHISTOPHELES Blood is a juice of rarest quality. FAUST Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever? The promise that I make to thee Is just the sum of my endeavor. I have myself inflated all too high; My proper place is thy estate: The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply, And Nature shuts on me her gate. The thread of Thought at last is broken, And knowledge brings disgust unspoken. Let us the sensual deeps explore, To quench the fervors of glowing passion! Let every marvel take form and fashion Through the impervious veil it wore! Plunge we in Time's tumultuous dance, In the rush and roll of Circumstance! Then may delight and distress, And worry and success, Alternately follow, as best they can: Restless activity proves the man! MEPHISTOPHELES For you no bound, no term is set. Whether you everywhere be trying, Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying, May it agree with you, what you get! Only fall to, and show no timid balking. FAUST But thou hast heard, 'tis not of joy we're talking. I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment's keenest pain, Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain. My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated, Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested, And all of life for all mankind created Shall be within mine inmost being tested: The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow, Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow, And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded, I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded! MEPHISTOPHELES Believe me, who for many a thousand year The same tough meat have chewed and tested, That from the cradle to the bier No man the ancient leaven has digested! Trust one of us, this Whole supernal Is made but for a God's delight! _He_ dwells in splendor single and eternal, But _us_ he thrusts in darkness, out of sight, And _you_ he dowers with Day and Night. FAUST Nay, but I will! MEPHISTOPHELES A good reply! One only fear still needs repeating: The art is long, the time is fleeting. Then let thyself be taught, say I! Go, league thyself with a poet, Give the rein to his imagination, Then wear the crown, and show it, Of the qualities of his creation,-- The courage of the lion's breed, The wild stag's speed, The Italian's fiery blood, The North's firm fortitude! Let him find for thee the secret tether That binds the Noble and Mean together. And teach thy pulses of youth and pleasure To love by rule, and hate by measure! I'd like, myself, such a one to see: Sir Microcosm his name should be. FAUST What am I, then, if 'tis denied my part The crown of all humanity to win me, Whereto yearns every sense within me? MEPHISTOPHELES Why, on the whole, thou'rt--what thou art. Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee, Wear shoes an ell in height,--the truth betrays thee, And thou remainest--what thou art. FAUST I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure Of human thought and knowledge mine, in vain; And if I now sit down in restful leisure, No fount of newer strength is in my brain: I am no hair's-breadth more in height, Nor nearer, to the Infinite, MEPHISTOPHELES Good Sir, you see the facts precisely As they are seen by each and all. We must arrange them now, more wisely, Before the joys of life shall pall. Why, Zounds! Both hands and feet are, truly-- And head and virile forces--thine: Yet all that I indulge in newly, Is't thence less wholly mine? If I've six stallions in my stall, Are not their forces also lent me? I speed along, completest man of all, As though my legs were four-and-twenty. Take hold, then! let reflection rest, And plunge into the world with zest! I say to thee, a speculative wight Is like a beast on moorlands lean, That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight, While all about lie pastures fresh and green. FAUST Then how shall we begin? MEPHISTOPHELES We'll try a wider sphere. What place of martyrdom is here! Is't life, I ask, is't even prudence, To bore thyself and bore the students? Let Neighbor Paunch to that attend! Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever? The best thou learnest, in the end Thou dar'st not tell the youngsters--never! I hear one's footsteps, hither steering. FAUST To see him now I have no heart. MEPHISTOPHELES So long the poor boy waits a hearing, He must not unconsoled depart. Thy cap and mantle straightway lend me! I'll play the comedy with art. (_He disguises himself_.) My wits, be certain, will befriend me. But fifteen minutes' time is all I need; For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed! [_Exit_ FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES (_In_ FAUST'S _long mantle_.) Reason and Knowledge only thou despise, The highest strength in man that lies! Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee With magic works and shows that blind thee, And I shall have thee fast and sure!-- Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him, As forwards, onwards, ever must endure; Whose over-hasty impulse drave him Past earthly joys he might secure. Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him, Through flat and stale indifference; With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him That, to his hot, insatiate sense, The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him: Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore-- Had he not made himself the Devil's, naught could save him, Still were he lost forevermore! (_A_ STUDENT _enters_.) STUDENT A short time, only, am I here, And come, devoted and sincere, To greet and know the man of fame, Whom men to me with reverence name. MEPHISTOPHELES Your courtesy doth flatter me: You see a man, as others be. Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun? STUDENT Receive me now, I pray, as one Who comes to you with courage good, Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood: My mother was hardly willing to let me; But knowledge worth having I fain would get me. MEPHISTOPHELES Then you have reached the right place now. STUDENT I'd like to leave it, I must avow; I find these walls, these vaulted spaces Are anything but pleasant places. Tis all so cramped and close and mean; One sees no tree, no glimpse of green, And when the lecture-halls receive me, Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me. MEPHISTOPHELES All that depends on habitude. So from its mother's breasts a child At first, reluctant, takes its food, But soon to seek them is beguiled. Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging, Thou'lt find each day a greater rapture bringing. STUDENT I'll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them; But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them. MEPHISTOPHELES Explain, before you further speak, The special faculty you seek. STUDENT I crave the highest erudition; And fain would make my acquisition All that there is in Earth and Heaven, In Nature and in Science too. MEPHISTOPHELES Here is the genuine path for you; Yet strict attention must be given. STUDENT Body and soul thereon I'll wreak; Yet, truly, I've some inclination On summer holidays to seek A little freedom and recreation. MEPHISTOPHELES Use well your time! It flies so swiftly from us; But time through order may be won, I promise. So, Friend (my views to briefly sum), First, the _collegium logicum_. There will your mind be drilled and braced, As if in Spanish boots 'twere laced, And thus, to graver paces brought, 'Twill plod along the path of thought, Instead of shooting here and there, A will-o'-the-wisp in murky air. Days will be spent to bid you know, What once you did at a single blow, Like eating and drinking, free and strong,-- That one, two, three! thereto belong. Truly the fabric of mental fleece Resembles a weaver's masterpiece, Where a thousand threads one treadle throws, Where fly the shuttles hither and thither. Unseen the threads are knit together. And an infinite combination grows. Then, the philosopher steps in And shows, no otherwise it could have been: The first was so, the second so, Therefore the third and fourth are so; Were not the first and second, then The third and fourth had never been. The scholars are everywhere believers, But never succeed in being weavers. He who would study organic existence, First drives out the soul with rigid persistence; Then the parts in his hand he may hold and class, But the spiritual link is lost, alas! _Encheiresin natures_, this Chemistry names, Nor knows how herself she banters and blames! STUDENT I cannot understand you quite. MEPHISTOPHELES Your mind will shortly be set aright, When you have learned, all things reducing, To classify them for your using. STUDENT I feel as stupid, from all you've said, As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head! MEPHISTOPHELES And after--first and foremost duty--Of Metaphysics learn the use and beauty! See that you most profoundly gain What does not suit the human brain! A splendid word to serve, you'll find For what goes in--or won't go in--your mind. But first, at least this half a year, To order rigidly adhere; Five hours a day, you understand, And when the clock strikes, be on hand! Prepare beforehand for your part With paragraphs all got by heart, So you can better watch, and look That naught is said but what is in the book: Yet in thy writing as unwearied be, As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee! STUDENT No need to tell me twice to do it! I think, how useful 'tis to write; For what one has, in black and white, One carries home and then goes through it. MEPHISTOPHELES Yet choose thyself a faculty! STUDENT I cannot reconcile myself to Jurisprudence. MEPHISTOPHELES Nor can I therefore greatly blame you students: I know what science this has come to be. All rights and laws are still transmitted Like an eternal sickness of the race,-- From generation unto generation fitted, And shifted round from place to place. Reason becomes a sham, Beneficence a worry: Thou art a grandchild, therefore woe to thee! The right born with us, ours in verity, This to consider, there's, alas! no hurry. STUDENT My own disgust is strengthened by your speech: O lucky he, whom you shall teach! I've almost for Theology decided. MEPHISTOPHELES I should not wish to see you here misguided: For, as regards this science, let me hint 'Tis very hard to shun the false direction; There's so much secret poison lurking in 't, So like the medicine, it baffles your detection. Hear, therefore, one alone, for that is best, in sooth, And simply take your master's words for truth. On _words_ let your attention centre! Then through the safest gate you'll enter The temple-halls of Certainty. STUDENT Yet in the word must some idea be. MEPHISTOPHELES Of course! But only shun too over-sharp a tension, For just where fails the comprehension, A word steps promptly in as deputy. With words 'tis excellent disputing; Systems to words 'tis easy suiting; On words 'tis excellent believing; No word can ever lose a jot from thieving. STUDENT Pardon! With many questions I detain you. Yet must I trouble you again. Of Medicine I still would fain Hear one strong word that might explain you. Three years is but a little space. And, God! who can the field embrace? If one some index could be shown, 'Twere easier groping forward, truly. MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_) I'm tired enough of this dry tone,-- Must play the Devil again, and fully. (_Aloud_) To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy: Learn of the great and little world your fill, To let it go at last, so please ye, Just as God will! In vain that through the realms of science you may drift; Each one learns only--just what learn he can: Yet he who grasps the Moment's gift, He is the proper man. Well-made you are, 'tis not to be denied, The rest a bold address will win you; If you but in yourself confide, At once confide all others in you. To lead the women, learn the special feeling! Their everlasting aches and groans, In thousand tones, Have all one source, one mode of healing; And if your acts are half discreet, You'll always have them at your feet. A title first must draw and interest them, And show that yours all other arts exceeds; Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them, While, thus to do, for years another pleads. You press and count the pulse's dances, And then, with burning sidelong glances, You clasp the swelling hips, to see If tightly laced her corsets be. STUDENT That's better, now! The How and Where, one sees. MEPHISTOPHELES My worthy friend, gray are all theories, And green alone Life's golden tree. STUDENT I swear to you, 'tis like a dream to me. Might I again presume, with trust unbounded, To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded? MEPHISTOPHELES Most willingly, to what extent I may. STUDENT I cannot really go away: Allow me that my album first I reach you,-- Grant me this favor, I beseech you! MEPHISTOPHELES Assuredly. (_He writes, and returns the book_.) STUDENT (_reads_) _Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum_. (_Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws_) MEPHISTOPHELES Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered to trample! With all thy likeness to God, thou'lt yet be a sorry example! (FAUST _enters_.) FAUST Now, whither shall we go? MEPHISTOPHELES As best it pleases thee. The little world, and then the great, we'll see. With what delight, what profit winning, Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning! FAUST Yet with the flowing beard I wear, Both ease and grace will fail me there. The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife; I never could learn the ways of life. I feel so small before others, and thence Should always find embarrassments. MEPHISTOPHELES My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving: Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living! FAUST How shall we leave the house, and start? Where hast thou servant, coach and horses? MEPHISTOPHELES We'll spread this cloak with proper art, Then through the air direct our courses. But only, on so bold a flight, Be sure to have thy luggage light. A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us, Above the earth will nimbly bear us, And, if we're light, we'll travel swift and clear: I gratulate thee on thy new career! [Illustration] V AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG CAROUSAL OF JOLLY COMPANIONS FROSCH Is no one laughing? no one drinking? I'll teach you how to grin, I'm thinking. To-day you're like wet straw, so tame; And usually you're all aflame. BRANDER Now that's your fault; from you we nothing see, No beastliness and no stupidity. FROSCH (_Pours a glass of wine over_ BRANDER'S _head_.) There's both together! BRANDER Twice a swine! FROSCH You wanted them: I've given you mine. SIEBEL Turn out who quarrels--out the door! With open throat sing chorus, drink and roar! Up! holla! ho! ALTMAYER Woe's me, the fearful bellow! Bring cotton, quick! He's split my ears, that fellow. SIEBEL When the vault echoes to the song, One first perceives the bass is deep and strong. FROSCH Well said! and out with him that takes the least offence! _Ah, tara, lara da_! ALTMAYER _Ah, tara, lara, da_! FROSCH The throats are tuned, commence! (_Sings_.) _The dear old holy Roman realm, How does it hold together_? BRANDER A nasty song! Fie! a political song-- A most offensive song! Thank God, each morning, therefore, That you have not the Roman realm to care for! At least, I hold it so much gain for me, That I nor Chancellor nor Kaiser be. Yet also we must have a ruling head, I hope, And so we'll choose ourselves a Pope. You know the quality that can Decide the choice, and elevate the man. FROSCH (_sings_) _Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale! Ten thousand times my sweetheart hail!_ SIEBEL No, greet my sweetheart not! I tell you, I'll resent it. FROSCH My sweetheart greet and kiss! I dare you to prevent it! (_Sings_.) _Draw the latch! the darkness makes: Draw the latch! the lover wakes. Shut the latch! the morning breaks_. SIEBEL Yes, sing away, sing on, and praise, and brag of her! I'll wait my proper time for laughter: Me by the nose she led, and now she'll lead you after. Her paramour should be an ugly gnome, Where four roads cross, in wanton play to meet her: An old he-goat, from Blocksberg coming home, Should his good-night in lustful gallop bleat her! A fellow made of genuine flesh and blood Is for the wench a deal too good. Greet her? Not I: unless, when meeting, To smash her windows be a greeting! BRANDER (_pounding on the table_) Attention! Hearken now to me! Confess, Sirs, I know how to live. Enamored persons here have we, And I, as suits their quality, Must something fresh for their advantage give. Take heed! 'Tis of the latest cut, my strain, And all strike in at each refrain! (_He sings_.) There was a rat in the cellar-nest, Whom fat and butter made smoother: He had a paunch beneath his vest Like that of Doctor Luther. The cook laid poison cunningly, And then as sore oppressed was he As if he had love in his bosom. CHORUS (_shouting_) As if he had love in his bosom! BRANDER He ran around, he ran about, His thirst in puddles laving; He gnawed and scratched the house throughout. But nothing cured his raving. He whirled and jumped, with torment mad, And soon enough the poor beast had, As if he had love in his bosom. CHORUS As if he had love in his bosom! BRANDER And driven at last, in open day, He ran into the kitchen, Fell on the hearth, and squirming lay, In the last convulsion twitching. Then laughed the murderess in her glee: "Ha! ha! he's at his last gasp," said she, "As if he had love in his bosom!" CHORUS As if he had love in his bosom! SIEBEL How the dull fools enjoy the matter! To me it is a proper art Poison for such poor rats to scatter. BRANDER Perhaps you'll warmly take their part? ALTMAYER The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted: Misfortune tames him by degrees; For in the rat by poison bloated His own most natural form he sees. FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES MEPHISTOPHELES Before all else, I bring thee hither Where boon companions meet together, To let thee see how smooth life runs away. Here, for the folk, each day's a holiday: With little wit, and ease to suit them, They whirl in narrow, circling trails, Like kittens playing with their tails? And if no headache persecute them, So long the host may credit give, They merrily and careless live. BRANDER The fact is easy to unravel, Their air's so odd, they've just returned from travel: A single hour they've not been here. FROSCH You've verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear: Paris in miniature, how it refines its people! SIEBEL Who are the strangers, should you guess? FROSCH Let me alone! I'll set them first to drinking, And then, as one a child's tooth draws, with cleverness, I'll worm their secret out, I'm thinking. They're of a noble house, that's very clear: Haughty and discontented they appear. BRANDER They're mountebanks, upon a revel. ALTMAYER Perhaps. FROSCH Look out, I'll smoke them now! MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Not if he had them by the neck, I vow, Would e'er these people scent the Devil! FAUST Fair greeting, gentlemen! SIEBEL Our thanks: we give the same. (_Murmurs, inspecting_ MEPHISTOPHELES _from the side_.) In one foot is the fellow lame? MEPHISTOPHELES Is it permitted that we share your leisure? In place of cheering drink, which one seeks vainly here, Your company shall give us pleasure. ALTMAYER A most fastidious person you appear. FROSCH No doubt 'twas late when you from Rippach started? And supping there with Hans occasioned your delay? MEPHISTOPHELES We passed, without a call, to-day. At our last interview, before we parted Much of his cousins did he speak, entreating That we should give to each his kindly greeting. (_He bows to_ FROSCH.) ALTMAYER (_aside_) You have it now! he understands. SIEBEL A knave sharp-set! FROSCH Just wait awhile: I'll have him yet. MEPHISTOPHELES If I am right, we heard the sound Of well-trained voices, singing chorus; And truly, song must here rebound Superbly from the arches o'er us. FROSCH Are you, perhaps, a virtuoso? MEPHISTOPHELES O no! my wish is great, my power is only so-so. ALTMAYER Give us a song! MEPHISTOPHELES If you desire, a number. SIEBEL So that it be a bran-new strain! MEPHISTOPHELES We've just retraced our way from. Spain, The lovely land of wine, and song, and slumber. (_Sings_.) There was a king once reigning, Who had a big black flea-- FROSCH Hear, hear! A flea! D'ye rightly take the jest? I call a flea a tidy guest. MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_) There was a king once reigning, Who had a big black flea, And loved him past explaining, As his own son were he. He called his man of stitches; The tailor came straightway: Here, measure the lad for breeches. And measure his coat, I say! BRANDER But mind, allow the tailor no caprices: Enjoin upon him, as his head is dear, To most exactly measure, sew and shear, So that the breeches have no creases! MEPHISTOPHELES In silk and velvet gleaming He now was wholly drest-- Had a coat with ribbons streaming, A cross upon his breast. He had the first of stations, A minister's star and name; And also all his relations Great lords at court became. And the lords and ladies of honor Were plagued, awake and in bed; The queen she got them upon her, The maids were bitten and bled. And they did not dare to brush them, Or scratch them, day or night: We crack them and we crush them, At once, whene'er they bite. CHORUS (_shouting_) We crack them and we crush them, At once, whene'er they bite! FROSCH Bravo! bravo! that was fine. SIEBEL Every flea may it so befall! BRANDER Point your fingers and nip them all! ALTMAYER Hurrah for Freedom! Hurrah for wine! MEPHISTOPHELES I fain would drink with you, my glass to Freedom clinking, If 'twere a better wine that here I see you drinking. SIEBEL Don't let us hear that speech again! MEPHISTOPHELES Did I not fear the landlord might complain, I'd treat these worthy guests, with pleasure, To some from out our cellar's treasure. SIEBEL Just treat, and let the landlord me arraign! FROSCH And if the wine be good, our praises shall be ample. But do not give too very small a sample; For, if its quality I decide, With a good mouthful I must be supplied. ALTMAYER (_aside_) They're from the Rhine! I guessed as much, before. MEPHISTOPHELES Bring me a gimlet here! BRANDER What shall therewith be done? You've not the casks already at the door? ALTMAYER Yonder, within the landlord's box of tools, there's one! MEPHISTOPHELES (_takes the gimlet_) (_To_ FROSCH.) Now, give me of your taste some intimation. FROSCH How do you mean? Have you so many kinds? MEPHISTOPHELES The choice is free: make up your minds. ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH) Aha! you lick your chops, from sheer anticipation. FROSCH Good! if I have the choice, so let the wine be Rhenish! Our Fatherland can best the sparkling cup replenish. MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring a hole in the edge of the table, at the place where_ FROSCH _sits_) Get me a little wax, to make the stoppers, quick! ALTMAYER Ah! I perceive a juggler's trick. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ BRANDER) And you? BRANDER Champagne shall be my wine, And let it sparkle fresh and fine! MEPHISTOPHELES (_bores: in the meantime one has made the wax stoppers, and plugged the holes with them_.) BRANDER What's foreign one can't always keep quite clear of, For good things, oft, are not so near; A German can't endure the French to see or hear of, Yet drinks their wines with hearty cheer. SIEBEL (_as_ MEPHISTOPHELES _approaches his seat_) For me, I grant, sour wine is out of place; Fill up my glass with sweetest, will you? MEPHISTOPHELES (_boring_) Tokay shall flow at once, to fill you! ALTMAYER No--look me, Sirs, straight in the face! I see you have your fun at our expense. MEPHISTOPHELES O no! with gentlemen of such pretence, That were to venture far, indeed. Speak out, and make your choice with speed! With what a vintage can I serve you? ALTMAYER With any--only satisfy our need. (_After the holes have been bored and plugged_) MEPHISTOPHELES (_with singular gestures_) Grapes the vine-stem bears, Horns the he-goat wears! The grapes are juicy, the vines are wood, The wooden table gives wine as good! Into the depths of Nature peer,-- Only believe there's a miracle here! Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill! ALL (_as they draw out the stoppers, and the wine which has been desired flows into the glass of each)_ O beautiful fountain, that flows at will! MEPHISTOPHELES But have a care that you nothing spill! (_They drink repeatedly_.) ALL (_sing_) As 'twere five hundred hogs, we feel So cannibalic jolly! MEPHISTOPHELES See, now, the race is happy--it is free! FAUST To leave them is my inclination. MEPHISTOPHELES Take notice, first! their bestiality Will make a brilliant demonstration. SIEBEL (_drinks carelessly: the wine spills upon the earth, and turns to flame_) Help! Fire! Help! Hell-fire is sent! MEPHISTOPHELES (_charming away the flame)_ Be quiet, friendly element! (_To the revellers_) A bit of purgatory 'twas for this time, merely. SIEBEL What mean you? Wait!--you'll pay for't dearly! You'll know us, to your detriment. FROSCH Don't try that game a second time upon us! ALTMAYER I think we'd better send him packing quietly. SIEBEL What, Sir! you dare to make so free, And play your hocus-pocus on us! MEPHISTOPHELES Be still, old wine-tub. SIEBEL Broomstick, you! You face it out, impertinent and heady? BRANDER Just wait! a shower of blows is ready. ALTMAYER (_draws a stopper out of the table: fire flies in his face_.) I burn! I burn! SIEBEL 'Tis magic! Strike-- The knave is outlawed! Cut him as you like! (_They draw their knives, and rush upon_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_) False word and form of air, Change place, and sense ensnare! Be here--and there! (_They stand amazed and look at each other_.) ALTMAYER Where am I? What a lovely land! FROSCH Vines? Can I trust my eyes? SIEBEL And purple grapes at hand! BRANDER Here, over this green arbor bending, See what a vine! what grapes depending! (_He takes_ SIEBEL _by the nose: the others do the same reciprocally, and raise their knives_.) MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_) Loose, Error, from their eyes the band, And how the Devil jests, be now enlightened! (_He disappears with_ FAUST: _the revellers start and separate_.) SIEBEL What happened? ALTMAYER How? FROSCH Was that your nose I tightened? BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL) And yours that still I have in hand? ALTMAYER It was a blow that went through every limb! Give me a chair! I sink! my senses swim. FROSCH But what has happened, tell me now? SIEBEL Where is he? If I catch the scoundrel hiding, He shall not leave alive, I vow. ALTMAYER I saw him with these eyes upon a wine-cask riding Out of the cellar-door, just now. Still in my feet the fright like lead is weighing. (_He turns towards the table_.) Why! If the fount of wine should still be playing? SIEBEL 'Twas all deceit, and lying, false design! FROSCH And yet it seemed as I were drinking wine. BRANDER But with the grapes how was it, pray? ALTMAYER Shall one believe no miracles, just say! [Illustration] [Illustration] VI WITCHES' KITCHEN (_Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a fire is burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which rise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims it, and watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young ones, sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are covered with the most fantastic witch-implements_.) FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST These crazy signs of witches' craft repel me! I shall recover, dost thou tell me, Through this insane, chaotic play? From an old hag shall I demand assistance? And will her foul mess take away Full thirty years from my existence? Woe's me, canst thou naught better find! Another baffled hope must be lamented: Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind Not any potent balsam yet invented? MEPHISTOPHELES Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly. There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter; But in another book 'tis writ for thee, And is a most eccentric chapter. FAUST Yet will I know it. MEPHISTOPHELES Good! the method is revealed Without or gold or magic or physician. Betake thyself to yonder field, There hoe and dig, as thy condition; Restrain thyself, thy sense and will Within a narrow sphere to flourish; With unmixed food thy body nourish; Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft That thou manur'st the acre which thou reapest;-- That, trust me, is the best mode left, Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest! FAUST I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it-- To take the spade in hand, and ply it. The narrow being suits me not at all. MEPHISTOPHELES Then to thine aid the witch must call. FAUST Wherefore the hag, and her alone? Canst thou thyself not brew the potion? MEPHISTOPHELES That were a charming sport, I own: I'd build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I've a notion. Not Art and Science serve, alone; Patience must in the work be shown. Long is the calm brain active in creation; Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation. And all, belonging thereunto, Is rare and strange, howe'er you take it: The Devil taught the thing, 'tis true, And yet the Devil cannot make it. (_Perceiving the Animals_) See, what a delicate race they be! That is the maid! the man is he! (_To the Animals_) It seems the mistress has gone away? THE ANIMALS Carousing, to-day! Off and about, By the chimney out! MEPHISTOPHELES What time takes she for dissipating? THE ANIMALS While we to warm our paws are waiting. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) How findest thou the tender creatures? FAUST Absurder than I ever yet did see. MEPHISTOPHELES Why, just such talk as this, for me, Is that which has the most attractive features! (_To the Animals_) But tell me now, ye cursed puppets, Why do ye stir the porridge so? THE ANIMALS We're cooking watery soup for beggars. MEPHISTOPHELES Then a great public you can show. THE HE-APE (_comes up and fawns on_ MEPHISTOPHELES) O cast thou the dice! Make me rich in a trice, Let me win in good season! Things are badly controlled, And had I but gold, So had I my reason. MEPHISTOPHELES How would the ape be sure his luck enhances. Could he but try the lottery's chances! (_In the meantime the young apes have been playing with a large ball, which they now roll forward_.) THE HE-APE The world's the ball: Doth rise and fall, And roll incessant: Like glass doth ring, A hollow thing,-- How soon will't spring, And drop, quiescent? Here bright it gleams, Here brighter seems: I live at present! Dear son, I say, Keep thou away! Thy doom is spoken! 'Tis made of clay, And will be broken. MEPHISTOPHELES What means the sieve? THE HE-APE (_taking it down_) Wert thou the thief, I'd know him and shame him. (_He runs to the_ SHE-APE, _and lets her look through it_.) Look through the sieve! Know'st thou the thief, And darest not name him? MEPHISTOPHELES (_approaching the fire)_ And what's this pot? HE-APE AND SHE-APE The fool knows it not! He knows not the pot, He knows not the kettle! MEPHISTOPHELES Impertinent beast! THE HE-APE Take the brush here, at least, And sit down on the settle! (_He invites_ MEPHISTOPHELES _to sit down_.) FAUST (_who during all this time has been standing before a mirror, now approaching and now retreating from it_) What do I see? What heavenly form revealed Shows through the glass from Magic's fair dominions! O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions, And bear me to her beauteous field! Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing, If I attempt to venture near, Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear!-- A woman's form, in beauty shining! Can woman, then, so lovely be? And must I find her body, there reclining, Of all the heavens the bright epitome? Can Earth with such a thing be mated? MEPHISTOPHELES Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days, Then, self-contented, _Bravo_! says, Must something clever be created. This time, thine eyes be satiate! I'll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her, And blest is he, who has the lucky fate, Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her. (FAUST _gazes continually in the mirror_. MEPHISTOPHELES, _stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the brush, continues to speak_.) So sit I, like the King upon his throne: I hold the sceptre, here,--and lack the crown alone. THE ANIMALS (_who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic movements together bring a crown to_ MEPHISTOPHELES _with great noise_.) O be thou so good With sweat and with blood The crown to belime! (_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two pieces, with which they spring around_.) 'Tis done, let it be! We speak and we see, We hear and we rhyme! FAUST (_before the mirror_) Woe's me! I fear to lose my wits. MEPHISTOPHELES (_pointing to the Animals_) My own head, now, is really nigh to sinking. THE ANIMALS If lucky our hits, And everything fits, 'Tis thoughts, and we're thinking! FAUST (_as above_) My bosom burns with that sweet vision; Let us, with speed, away from here! MEPHISTOPHELES (_in the same attitude_) One must, at least, make this admission-- They're poets, genuine and sincere. (_The caldron, which the_ SHE-APE _has up to this time neglected to watch, begins to boil over: there ensues a great flame_, _which blazes out the chimney. The_ WITCH _comes careering down through the flame, with terrible cries_.) THE WITCH Ow! ow! ow! ow! The damnéd beast--the curséd sow! To leave the kettle, and singe the Frau! Accurséd fere! (_Perceiving_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) What is that here? Who are you here? What want you thus? Who sneaks to us? The fire-pain Burn bone and brain! (_She plunges the skimming-ladle into the caldron, and scatters flames towards_ FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, _and the Animals. The Animals whimper_.) MEPHISTOPHELES (_reversing the brush, which he has been holding in his hand, and striding among the jars and glasses_) In two! in two! There lies the brew! There lies the glass! The joke will pass, As time, foul ass! To the singing of thy crew. (_As the_ WITCH _starts back, full of wrath and horror_) Ha! know'st thou me? Abomination, thou! Know'st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master? What hinders me from smiting now Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster? Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence? Dost recognize no more the tall cock's-feather? Have I concealed this countenance?-- Must tell my name, old face of leather? THE WITCH O pardon, Sir, the rough salute! Yet I perceive no cloven foot; And both your ravens, where are _they_ now? MEPHISTOPHELES This time, I'll let thee 'scape the debt; For since we two together met, 'Tis verily full many a day now. Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, Also unto the Devil sticks. The days of that old Northern phantom now are over: Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover? And, as regards the foot, which I can't spare, in truth, 'Twould only make the people shun me; Therefore I've worn, like many a spindly youth, False calves these many years upon me. THE WITCH (_dancing_) Reason and sense forsake my brain, Since I behold Squire Satan here again! MEPHISTOPHELES Woman, from such a name refrain! THE WITCH Why so? What has it done to thee? MEPHISTOPHELES It's long been written in the Book of Fable; Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see: The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable. Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good; A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing. Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood: See, here's the coat-of-arms that I am wearing! (_He makes an indecent gesture_.) THE WITCH (_laughs immoderately_) Ha! ha! That's just your way, I know: A rogue you are, and you were always so. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) My friend, take proper heed, I pray! To manage witches, this is just the way. THE WITCH Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use? MEPHISTOPHELES Give us a goblet of the well-known juice! But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage; The years a double strength produce. THE WITCH With all my heart! Now, here's a bottle, Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle, Which, also, not the slightest, stinks; And willingly a glass I'll fill him. (_Whispering_) Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks, As well thou know'st, within an hour 'twill kill him. MEPHISTOPHELES He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree, And he deserves thy kitchen's best potation: Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration, And fill thy goblet full and free! THE WITCH (_with fantastic gestures draws a circle and places mysterious articles therein; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the caldron to sound, and make a musical accompaniment. Finally she brings a great book, and stations in the circle the Apes, who are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to hold the torches. She then beckons_ FAUST _to approach_.) FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES) Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic, The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic,-- All the repulsive cheats I view,-- Are known to me, and hated, too. MEPHISTOPHELES O, nonsense! That's a thing for laughter; Don't be so terribly severe! She juggles you as doctor now, that, after, The beverage may work the proper cheer. (_He persuades_ FAUST _to step into the circle_.) THE WITCH (_begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book_) See, thus it's done! Make ten of one, And two let be, Make even three, And rich thou 'It be. Cast o'er the four! From five and six (The witch's tricks) Make seven and eight, 'Tis finished straight! And nine is one, And ten is none. This is the witch's once-one's-one! FAUST She talks like one who raves in fever. MEPHISTOPHELES Thou'lt hear much more before we leave her. 'Tis all the same: the book I can repeat, Such time I've squandered o'er the history: A contradiction thus complete Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery. The art is old and new, for verily All ages have been taught the matter,-- By Three and One, and One and Three, Error instead of Truth to scatter. They prate and teach, and no one interferes; All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking. Man usually believes, if only words he hears, That also with them goes material for thinking! THE WITCH (_continues_) The lofty skill Of Science, still From all men deeply hidden! Who takes no thought, To him 'tis brought, 'Tis given unsought, unbidden! FAUST What nonsense she declaims before us! My head is nigh to split, I fear: It seems to me as if I hear A hundred thousand fools in chorus. MEPHISTOPHELES O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration! But hither bring us thy potation, And quickly fill the beaker to the brim! This drink will bring my friend no injuries: He is a man of manifold degrees, And many draughts are known to him. (_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a cup; as_ FAUST _sets it to his lips, a light flame arises_.) Down with it quickly! Drain it off! 'Twill warm thy heart with new desire: Art with the Devil hand and glove, And wilt thou be afraid of fire? (_The_ WITCH _breaks the circle_: FAUST _steps forth_.) MEPHISTOPHELES And now, away! Thou dar'st not rest. THE WITCH And much good may the liquor do thee! MEPHISTOPHELES (_to the_ WITCH) Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed; What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee. THE WITCH Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing, You'll find it of peculiar operation. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation Must start the needful perspiration, And through thy frame the liquor's potence fling. The noble indolence I'll teach thee then to treasure, And soon thou'lt be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure, How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing. FAUST One rapid glance within the mirror give me, How beautiful that woman-form! MEPHISTOPHELES No, no! The paragon of all, believe me, Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm. _(Aside)_ Thou'lt find, this drink thy blood compelling, Each woman beautiful as Helen! [Illustration] [Illustration] VII STREET FAUST MARGARET _(passing by)_ FAUST Fair lady, let it not offend you, That arm and escort I would lend you! MARGARET I'm neither lady, neither fair, And home I can go without your care. [_She releases herself, and exit_. FAUST By Heaven, the girl is wondrous fair! Of all I've seen, beyond compare; So sweetly virtuous and pure, And yet a little pert, be sure! The lip so red, the cheek's clear dawn, [Illustration:] I'll not forget while the world rolls on! How she cast down her timid eyes, Deep in my heart imprinted lies: How short and sharp of speech was she, Why, 'twas a real ecstasy! (MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_) FAUST Hear, of that girl I'd have possession! MEPHISTOPHELES Which, then? FAUST The one who just went by. MEPHISTOPHELES She, there? She's coming from confession, Of every sin absolved; for I, Behind her chair, was listening nigh. So innocent is she, indeed, That to confess she had no need. I have no power o'er souls so green. FAUST And yet, she's older than fourteen. MEPHISTOPHELES How now! You're talking like Jack Rake, Who every flower for himself would take, And fancies there are no favors more, Nor honors, save for him in store; Yet always doesn't the thing succeed. FAUST Most Worthy Pedagogue, take heed! Let not a word of moral law be spoken! I claim, I tell thee, all my right; And if that image of delight Rest not within mine arms to-night, At midnight is our compact broken. MEPHISTOPHELES But think, the chances of the case! I need, at least, a fortnight's space, To find an opportune occasion. FAUST Had I but seven hours for all, I should not on the Devil call, But win her by my own persuasion. MEPHISTOPHELES You almost like a Frenchman prate; Yet, pray, don't take it as annoyance! Why, all at once, exhaust the joyance? Your bliss is by no means so great As if you'd use, to get control, All sorts of tender rigmarole, And knead and shape her to your thought, As in Italian tales 'tis taught. FAUST Without that, I have appetite. MEPHISTOPHELES But now, leave jesting out of sight! I tell you, once for all, that speed With this fair girl will not succeed; By storm she cannot captured be; We must make use of strategy. FAUST Get me something the angel keeps! Lead me thither where she sleeps! Get me a kerchief from her breast,-- A garter that her knee has pressed! MEPHISTOPHELES That you may see how much I'd fain Further and satisfy your pain, We will no longer lose a minute; I'll find her room to-day, and take you in it. FAUST And shall I see--possess her? MEPHISTOPHELES No! Unto a neighbor she must go, And meanwhile thou, alone, mayst glow With every hope of future pleasure, Breathing her atmosphere in fullest measure. FAUST Can we go thither? MEPHISTOPHELES 'Tis too early yet. FAUST A gift for her I bid thee get! [_Exit_. MEPHISTOPHELES Presents at once? That's good: he's certain to get at her! Full many a pleasant place I know, And treasures, buried long ago: I must, perforce, look up the matter. _[Exit_. [Illustration] VIII EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER MARGARET (_plaiting and binding up the braids of her hair_) I'd something give, could I but say Who was that gentleman, to-day. Surely a gallant man was he, And of a noble family; And much could I in his face behold,-- And he wouldn't, else, have been so bold! [_Exit_ MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES Come in, but gently: follow me! FAUST (_after a moment's silence_) Leave me alone, I beg of thee! MEPHISTOPHELES (_prying about_) Not every girl keeps things so neat. FAUST (_looking around_) O welcome, twilight soft and sweet, That breathes throughout this hallowed shrine! Sweet pain of love, bind thou with fetters fleet The heart that on the dew of hope must pine! How all around a sense impresses Of quiet, order, and content! This poverty what bounty blesses! What bliss within this narrow den is pent! (_He throws himself into a leathern arm-chair near the bed_.) Receive me, thou, that in thine open arms Departed joy and pain wert wont to gather! How oft the children, with their ruddy charms, Hung here, around this throne, where sat the father! Perchance my love, amid the childish band, Grateful for gifts the Holy Christmas gave her, Here meekly kissed the grandsire's withered hand. I feel, O maid! thy very soul Of order and content around me whisper,-- Which leads thee with its motherly control, The cloth upon thy board bids smoothly thee unroll, The sand beneath thy feet makes whiter, crisper. O dearest hand, to thee 'tis given To change this hut into a lower heaven! And here! (_He lifts one of the bed-curtains_.) What sweetest thrill is in my blood! Here could I spend whole hours, delaying: Here Nature shaped, as if in sportive playing, The angel blossom from the bud. Here lay the child, with Life's warm essence The tender bosom filled and fair, And here was wrought, through holier, purer presence, The form diviner beings wear! And I? What drew me here with power? How deeply am I moved, this hour! What seek I? Why so full my heart, and sore? Miserable Faust! I know thee now no more. Is there a magic vapor here? I came, with lust of instant pleasure, And lie dissolved in dreams of love's sweet leisure! Are we the sport of every changeful atmosphere? And if, this moment, came she in to me, How would I for the fault atonement render! How small the giant lout would be, Prone at her feet, relaxed and tender! MEPHISTOPHELES Be quick! I see her there, returning. FAUST Go! go! I never will retreat. MEPHISTOPHELES Here is a casket, not unmeet, Which elsewhere I have just been earning. Here, set it in the press, with haste! I swear, 'twill turn her head, to spy it: Some baubles I therein had placed, That you might win another by it. True, child is child, and play is play. FAUST I know not, should I do it? MEPHISTOPHELES Ask you, pray? Yourself, perhaps, would keep the bubble? Then I suggest, 'twere fair and just To spare the lovely day your lust, And spare to me the further trouble. You are not miserly, I trust? I rub my hands, in expectation tender-- (_He places the casket in the press, and locks it again_.) Now quick, away! The sweet young maiden to betray, So that by wish and will you bend her; And you look as though To the lecture-hall you were forced to go,-- As if stood before you, gray and loath, Physics and Metaphysics both! But away! [_Exeunt_. MARGARET (_with a lamp_) It is so close, so sultry, here! (_She opens the window_) And yet 'tis not so warm outside. I feel, I know not why, such fear!-- Would mother came!--where can she bide? My body's chill and shuddering,-- I'm but a silly, fearsome thing! (_She begins to sing while undressing_) There was a King in Thule, Was faithful till the grave,-- To whom his mistress, dying, A golden goblet gave. Naught was to him more precious; He drained it at every bout: His eyes with tears ran over, As oft as he drank thereout. When came his time of dying, The towns in his land he told, Naught else to his heir denying Except the goblet of gold. He sat at the royal banquet With his knights of high degree, In the lofty hall of his fathers In the Castle by the Sea. There stood the old carouser, And drank the last life-glow; And hurled the hallowed goblet Into the tide below. He saw it plunging and filling, And sinking deep in the sea: Then fell his eyelids forever, And never more drank he! (_She opens the press in order to arrange her clothes, and perceives the casket of jewels_.) How comes that lovely casket here to me? I locked the press, most certainly. 'Tis truly wonderful! What can within it be? Perhaps 'twas brought by some one as a pawn, And mother gave a loan thereon? And here there hangs a key to fit: I have a mind to open it. What is that? God in Heaven! Whence came Such things? Never beheld I aught so fair! Rich ornaments, such as a noble dame On highest holidays might wear! How would the pearl-chain suit my hair? Ah, who may all this splendor own? (_She adorns herself with the jewelry, and steps before the mirror_.) Were but the ear-rings mine, alone! One has at once another air. What helps one's beauty, youthful blood? One may possess them, well and good; But none the more do others care. They praise us half in pity, sure: To gold still tends, On gold depends All, all! Alas, we poor! [Illustration] [Illustration] IX PROMENADE (FAUST, _walking thoughtfully up and down. To him_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) MEPHISTOPHELES By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing! I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for swearing! FAUST What ails thee? What is't gripes thee, elf? A face like thine beheld I never. MEPHISTOPHELES I would myself unto the Devil deliver, If I were not a Devil myself! FAUST Thy head is out of order, sadly: It much becomes thee to be raving madly. MEPHISTOPHELES Just think, the pocket of a priest should get The trinkets left for Margaret! The mother saw them, and, instanter, A secret dread began to haunt her. Keen scent has she for tainted air; She snuffs within her book of prayer, And smells each article, to see If sacred or profane it be; So here she guessed, from every gem, That not much blessing came with them. "My child," she said, "ill-gotten good Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. Before the Mother of God we'll lay it; With heavenly manna she'll repay it!" But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, "A gift-horse is not out of place, And, truly! godless cannot be The one who brought such things to me." A parson came, by the mother bidden: He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, And viewed it with a favor stealthy. He spake: "That is the proper view,-- Who overcometh, winneth too. The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, And never yet complained of surfeit: The Church alone, beyond all question, Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion." FAUST A general practice is the same, Which Jew and King may also claim. MEPHISTOPHELES Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, As if but toadstools were the things, And thanked no less, and thanked no more Than if a sack of nuts he bore,-- Promised them fullest heavenly pay, And deeply edified were they. FAUST And Margaret? MEPHISTOPHELES Sits unrestful still, And knows not what she should, or will; Thinks on the jewels, day and night, But more on him who gave her such delight. FAUST The darling's sorrow gives me pain. Get thou a set for her again! The first was not a great display. MEPHISTOPHELES O yes, the gentleman finds it all child's-play! FAUST Fix and arrange it to my will; And on her neighbor try thy skill! Don't be a Devil stiff as paste, But get fresh jewels to her taste! MEPHISTOPHELES Yes, gracious Sir, in all obedience! [_Exit_ FAUST. Such an enamored fool in air would blow Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, To give his sweetheart a diverting show. [_Exit_. [Illustration] X THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE MARTHA (_solus_) God forgive my husband, yet he Hasn't done his duty by me! Off in the world he went straightway,-- Left me lie in the straw where I lay. And, truly, I did naught to fret him: God knows I loved, and can't forget him! (_She weeps_.) Perhaps he's even dead! Ah, woe!-- Had I a certificate to show! MARGARET (_comes_) Dame Martha! MARTHA Margaret! what's happened thee? MARGARET I scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! I find a box, the first resembling, Within my press! Of ebony,-- And things, all splendid to behold, And richer far than were the old. MARTHA You mustn't tell it to your mother! 'Twould go to the priest, as did the other. MARGARET Ah, look and see--just look and see! MARTHA (_adorning her_) O, what a blessed luck for thee! MARGARET But, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them, Nor in the church be seen to wear them. MARTHA Yet thou canst often this way wander, And secretly the jewels don, Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,-- We'll have our private joy thereon. And then a chance will come, a holiday, When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, A chain at first, then other ornament: Thy mother will not see, and stories we'll invent. MARGARET Whoever could have brought me things so precious? That something's wrong, I feel suspicious. (_A knock_) Good Heaven! My mother can that have been? MARTHA (_peeping through the blind_) 'Tis some strange gentleman.--Come in! (MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.) MEPHISTOPHELES That I so boldly introduce me, I beg you, ladies, to excuse me. (_Steps back reverently, on seeing_ MARGARET.) For Martha Schwerdtlein I'd inquire! MARTHA I'm she: what does the gentleman desire? MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside to her_) It is enough that you are she: You've a visitor of high degree. Pardon the freedom I have ta'en,-- Will after noon return again. MARTHA (_aloud_) Of all things in the world! Just hear-- He takes thee for a lady, dear! MARGARET I am a creature young and poor: The gentleman's too kind, I'm sure. The jewels don't belong to me. MEPHISTOPHELES Ah, not alone the jewelry! The look, the manner, both betray-- Rejoiced am I that I may stay! MARTHA What is your business? I would fain-- MEPHISTOPHELES I would I had a more cheerful strain! Take not unkindly its repeating: Your husband's dead, and sends a greeting. MARTHA Is dead? Alas, that heart so true! My husband dead! Let me die, too! MARGARET Ah, dearest dame, let not your courage fail! MEPHISTOPHELES Hear me relate the mournful tale! MARGARET Therefore I'd never love, believe me! A loss like this to death would grieve me. MEPHISTOPHELES Joy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying. MARTHA Relate his life's sad close to me! MEPHISTOPHELES In Padua buried, he is lying Beside the good Saint Antony, Within a grave well consecrated, For cool, eternal rest created. MARTHA He gave you, further, no commission? MEPHISTOPHELES Yes, one of weight, with many sighs: Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition! My hands are empty, otherwise. MARTHA What! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry? What every journeyman within his wallet spares, And as a token with him bears, And rather starves or begs, than loses? MEPHISTOPHELES Madam, it is a grief to me; Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. Besides, his penitence was very sore, And he lamented his ill fortune all the more. MARGARET Alack, that men are so unfortunate! Surely for his soul's sake full many a prayer I'll proffer. MEPHISTOPHELES You well deserve a speedy marriage-offer: You are so kind, compassionate. MARGARET O, no! As yet, it would not do. MEPHISTOPHELES If not a husband, then a beau for you! It is the greatest heavenly blessing, To have a dear thing for one's caressing. MARGARET The country's custom is not so. MEPHISTOPHELES Custom, or not! It happens, though. MARTHA Continue, pray! MEPHISTOPHELES I stood beside his bed of dying. 'Twas something better than manure,-- Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, And found that heavier scores to his account were lying. He cried: "I find my conduct wholly hateful! To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful! Ah, the remembrance makes me die! Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!" MARTHA (_weeping_) The dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven. MEPHISTOPHELES "Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I." MARTHA He lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered? MEPHISTOPHELES In the last throes his senses wandered, If I such things but half can judge. He said: "I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: First children, and then work for bread to feed 'em,-- For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!" MARTHA Had he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot? My work and worry, day and night? MEPHISTOPHELES Not so: the memory of it touched him quite. Said he: "When I from Malta went away My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, And such a luck from Heaven befell us, We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. Then I received, as was most fit, Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, My well-apportioned share of it." MARTHA Say, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it? MEPHISTOPHELES Who knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it? A fair young damsel took him in her care, As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended; And she much love, much faith to him did bear, So that he felt it till his days were ended. MARTHA The villain! From his children thieving! Even all the misery on him cast Could not prevent his shameful way of living! MEPHISTOPHELES But see! He's dead therefrom, at last. Were I in _your_ place, do not doubt me, I'd mourn him decently a year, And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me. MARTHA Ah, God! another one so dear As was my first, this world will hardly give me. There never was a sweeter fool than mine, Only he loved to roam and leave me, And foreign wenches and foreign wine, And the damned throw of dice, indeed. MEPHISTOPHELES Well, well! That might have done, however, If he had only been as clever, And treated _your_ slips with as little heed. I swear, with this condition, too, I would, myself, change rings with you. MARTHA The gentleman is pleased to jest. MEPHISTOPHELES I'll cut away, betimes, from here: She'd take the Devil at his word, I fear. (_To_ MARGARET) How fares the heart within your breast? MARGARET What means the gentleman? MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_) Sweet innocent, thou art! (_Aloud_.) Ladies, farewell! MARGARET Farewell! MARTHA A moment, ere we part! I'd like to have a legal witness, Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness. Irregular ways I've always hated; I want his death in the weekly paper stated. MEPHISTOPHELES Yes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses Always the truth establishes. I have a friend of high condition, Who'll also add his deposition. I'll bring him here. MARTHA Good Sir, pray do! MEPHISTOPHELES And this young lady will be present, too? A gallant youth! has travelled far: Ladies with him delighted are. MARGARET Before him I should blush, ashamed. MEPHISTOPHELES Before no king that could be named! MARTHA Behind the house, in my garden, then, This eve we'll expect the gentlemen. [Illustration] XI A STREET FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST How is it? under way? and soon complete? MEPHISTOPHELES Ah, bravo! Do I find you burning? Well, Margaret soon will still your yearning: At Neighbor Martha's you'll this evening meet. A fitter woman ne'er was made To ply the pimp and gypsy trade! FAUST Tis well. MEPHISTOPHELES Yet something is required from us. FAUST One service pays the other thus. MEPHISTOPHELES We've but to make a deposition valid That now her husband's limbs, outstretched and pallid, At Padua rest, in consecrated soil. FAUST Most wise! And first, of course, we'll make the journey thither? MEPHISTOPHELES _Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such a toil; Depose, with knowledge or without it, either! FAUST If you've naught better, then, I'll tear your pretty plan! MEPHISTOPHELES Now, there you are! O holy man! Is it the first time in your life you're driven To bear false witness in a case? Of God, the world and all that in it has a place, Of Man, and all that moves the being of his race, Have you not terms and definitions given With brazen forehead, daring breast? And, if you'll probe the thing profoundly, Knew you so much--and you'll confess it roundly!-- As here of Schwerdtlein's death and place of rest? FAUST Thou art, and thou remain'st, a sophist, liar. MEPHISTOPHELES Yes, knew I not more deeply thy desire. For wilt thou not, no lover fairer, Poor Margaret flatter, and ensnare her, And all thy soul's devotion swear her? FAUST And from my heart. MEPHISTOPHELES 'Tis very fine! Thine endless love, thy faith assuring, The one almighty force enduring,-- Will that, too, prompt this heart of thine? FAUST Hold! hold! It will!--If such my flame, And for the sense and power intense I seek, and cannot find, a name; Then range with all my senses through creation, Craving the speech of inspiration, And call this ardor, so supernal, Endless, eternal and eternal,-- Is that a devilish lying game? MEPHISTOPHELES And yet I'm right! FAUST Mark this, I beg of thee! And spare my lungs henceforth: whoever Intends to have the right, if but his tongue be clever, Will have it, certainly. But come: the further talking brings disgust, For thou art right, especially since I must. [Illustration] [Illustration] XII GARDEN (MARGARET _on_ FAUST'S _arm_. MARTHA _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _walking up and down_.) MARGARET I feel, the gentleman allows for me, Demeans himself, and shames me by it; A traveller is so used to be Kindly content with any diet. I know too well that my poor gossip can Ne'er entertain such an experienced man. FAUST A look from thee, a word, more entertains Than all the lore of wisest brains. (_He kisses her hand_.) MARGARET Don't incommode yourself! How could you ever kiss it! It is so ugly, rough to see! What work I do,--how hard and steady is it! Mother is much too close with me. [_They pass_. MARTHA And you, Sir, travel always, do you not? MEPHISTOPHELES Alas, that trade and duty us so harry! With what a pang one leaves so many a spot, And dares not even now and then to tarry! MARTHA In young, wild years it suits your ways, This round and round the world in freedom sweeping; But then come on the evil days, And so, as bachelor, into his grave a-creeping, None ever found a thing to praise. MEPHISTOPHELES I dread to see how such a fate advances. MARTHA Then, worthy Sir, improve betimes your chances! [_They pass_. MARGARET Yes, out of sight is out of mind! Your courtesy an easy grace is; But you have friends in other places, And sensibler than I, you'll find. FAUST Trust me, dear heart! what men call sensible Is oft mere vanity and narrowness. MARGARET How so? FAUST Ah, that simplicity and innocence ne'er know Themselves, their holy value, and their spell! That meekness, lowliness, the highest graces Which Nature portions out so lovingly-- MARGARET So you but think a moment's space on me, All times I'll have to think on you, all places! FAUST No doubt you're much alone? MARGARET Yes, for our household small has grown, Yet must be cared for, you will own. We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, The cooking, early work and late, in fact; And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, Is so exact! Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: A nice estate was left us by my father, A house, a little garden near the town. But now my days have less of noise and hurry; My brother is a soldier, My little sister's dead. True, with the child a troubled life I led, Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, So very dear was she. FAUST An angel, if like thee! MARGARET I brought it up, and it was fond of me. Father had died before it saw the light, And mother's case seemed hopeless quite, So weak and miserable she lay; And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. She could not think, herself, of giving The poor wee thing its natural living; And so I nursed it all alone With milk and water: 'twas my own. Lulled in my lap with many a song, It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong. FAUST The purest bliss was surely then thy dower. MARGARET But surely, also, many a weary hour. I kept the baby's cradle near My bed at night: if 't even stirred, I'd guess it, And waking, hear. And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning's break; And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. One's spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, But then one learns to relish rest and food. [_They pass_. MARTHA Yes, the poor women are bad off, 'tis true: A stubborn bachelor there's no converting. MEPHISTOPHELES It but depends upon the like of you, And I should turn to better ways than flirting. MARTHA Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected? Has not your heart been anywhere subjected? MEPHISTOPHELES The proverb says: One's own warm hearth And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth. MARTHA I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne'er so slightly? MEPHISTOPHELES I've everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely. MARTHA I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever? MEPHISTOPHELES One should allow one's self to jest with ladies never. MARTHA Ah, you don't understand! MEPHISTOPHELES I'm sorry I'm so blind: But I am sure--that you are very kind. [_They pass_. FAUST And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, As through the garden-gate I came? MARGARET Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes. FAUST And thou forgiv'st my freedom, and the blame To my impertinence befitting, As the Cathedral thou wert quitting? MARGARET I was confused, the like ne'er happened me; No one could ever speak to my discredit. Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it-- Something immodest or unseemly free? He seemed to have the sudden feeling That with this wench 'twere very easy dealing. I will confess, I knew not what appeal On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew; But I was angry with myself, to feel That I could not be angrier with you. FAUST Sweet darling! MARGARET Wait a while! (_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after the other_.) FAUST Shall that a nosegay be? MARGARET No, it is just in play. FAUST How? MARGARET Go! you'll laugh at me. (_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.) FAUST What murmurest thou? MARGARET (_half aloud_) He loves me--loves me not. FAUST Thou sweet, angelic soul! MARGARET (_continues_) Loves me--not--loves me--not-- (_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:) He loves me! FAUST Yes, child! and let this blossom-word For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! Ah, know'st thou what it means? He loves thee! (_He grasps both her hands_.) MARGARET I'm all a-tremble! FAUST O tremble not! but let this look, Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee What is unspeakable! To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture In yielding, that must be eternal! Eternal!--for the end would be despair. No, no,--no ending! no ending! MARTHA (_coming forward_) The night is falling. MEPHISTOPHELES Ay! we must away. MARTHA I'd ask you, longer here to tarry, But evil tongues in this town have full play. It's as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry, Nor other labor, But spying all the doings of one's neighbor: And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe'er one may. Where is our couple now? MEPHISTOPHELES Flown up the alley yonder, The wilful summer-birds! MARTHA He seems of her still fonder. MEPHISTOPHELES And she of him. So runs the world away! [Illustration] [Illustration] XIII A GARDEN-ARBOR (MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.) MARGARET He comes! FAUST (_entering_) Ah, rogue! a tease thou art: I have thee! (_He kisses her_.) MARGARET (_clasping him, and returning the kiss_) Dearest man! I love thee from my heart. (MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_) FAUST (_stamping his foot_) Who's there? MEPHISTOPHELES A friend! FAUST A beast! MEPHISTOPHELES Tis time to separate. MARTHA (_coming_) Yes, Sir, 'tis late. FAUST May I not, then, upon you wait? MARGARET My mother would--farewell! FAUST Ah, can I not remain? Farewell! MARTHA Adieu! MARGARET And soon to meet again! [_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES. MARGARET Dear God! However is it, such A man can think and know so much? I stand ashamed and in amaze, And answer "Yes" to all he says, A poor, unknowing child! and he-- I can't think what he finds in me! [_Exit_. [Illustration] XIV FOREST AND CAVERN FAUST (_solus_) Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire. Thou gav'st me Nature as a kingdom grand, With power to feel and to enjoy it. Thou Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st, But grantest, that in her profoundest breast I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend. The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead Before me, teaching me to know my brothers In air and water and the silent wood. And when the storm in forests roars and grinds, The giant firs, in falling, neighbor boughs And neighbor trunks with crushing weight bear down, And falling, fill the hills with hollow thunders,-- Then to the cave secure thou leadest me, Then show'st me mine own self, and in my breast The deep, mysterious miracles unfold. And when the perfect moon before my gaze Comes up with soothing light, around me float From every precipice and thicket damp The silvery phantoms of the ages past, And temper the austere delight of thought. That nothing can be perfect unto Man I now am conscious. With this ecstasy, Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods, Thou gav'st the comrade, whom I now no more Can do without, though, cold and scornful, he Demeans me to myself, and with a breath, A word, transforms thy gifts to nothingness. Within my breast he fans a lawless fire, Unwearied, for that fair and lovely form: Thus in desire I hasten to enjoyment, And in enjoyment pine to feel desire. (MEPHISTOPHELES _enters_.) MEPHISTOPHELES Have you not led this life quite long enough? How can a further test delight you? 'Tis very well, that once one tries the stuff, But something new must then requite you. FAUST Would there were other work for thee! To plague my day auspicious thou returnest. MEPHISTOPHELES Well! I'll engage to let thee be: Thou darest not tell me so in earnest. The loss of thee were truly very slight,-- comrade crazy, rude, repelling: [Illustration] One has one's hands full all the day and night; If what one does, or leaves undone, is right, From such a face as thine there is no telling. FAUST There is, again, thy proper tone!-- That thou hast bored me, I must thankful be! MEPHISTOPHELES Poor Son of Earth, how couldst thou thus alone Have led thy life, bereft of me? I, for a time, at least, have worked thy cure; Thy fancy's rickets plague thee not at all: Had I not been, so hadst thou, sure, Walked thyself off this earthly ball Why here to caverns, rocky hollows slinking, Sit'st thou, as 'twere an owl a-blinking? Why suck'st, from sodden moss and dripping stone, Toad-like, thy nourishment alone? A fine way, this, thy time to fill! The Doctor's in thy body still. FAUST What fresh and vital forces, canst thou guess, Spring from my commerce with the wilderness? But, if thou hadst the power of guessing, Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge my soul the blessing. MEPHISTOPHELES A blessing drawn from supernatural fountains! In night and dew to lie upon the mountains; All Heaven and Earth in rapture penetrating; Thyself to Godhood haughtily inflating; To grub with yearning force through Earth's dark marrow, Compress the six days' work within thy bosom narrow,-- To taste, I know not what, in haughty power, Thine own ecstatic life on all things shower, Thine earthly self behind thee cast, And then the lofty instinct, thus-- (_With a gesture_:) at last,-- daren't say how--to pluck the final flower! FAUST Shame on thee! MEPHISTOPHELES Yes, thou findest that unpleasant! Thou hast the moral right to cry me "shame!" at present. One dares not that before chaste ears declare, Which chaste hearts, notwithstanding, cannot spare; And, once for all, I grudge thee not the pleasure Of lying to thyself in moderate measure. But such a course thou wilt not long endure; Already art thou o'er-excited, And, if it last, wilt soon be plighted To madness and to horror, sure. Enough of that! Thy love sits lonely yonder, By all things saddened and oppressed; Her thoughts and yearnings seek thee, tenderer, fonder,-- mighty love is in her breast. First came thy passion's flood and poured around her As when from melted snow a streamlet overflows; Thou hast therewith so filled and drowned her, That now _thy_ stream all shallow shows. Methinks, instead of in the forests lording, The noble Sir should find it good, The love of this young silly blood At once to set about rewarding. Her time is miserably long; She haunts her window, watching clouds that stray O'er the old city-wall, and far away. "Were I a little bird!" so runs her song, Day long, and half night long. Now she is lively, mostly sad, Now, wept beyond her tears; Then again quiet she appears,--Always love-mad. FAUST Serpent! Serpent! MEPHISTOPHELES _(aside)_ Ha! do I trap thee! FAUST Get thee away with thine offences, Reprobate! Name not that fairest thing, Nor the desire for her sweet body bring Again before my half-distracted senses! MEPHISTOPHELES What wouldst thou, then? She thinks that thou art flown; And half and half thou art, I own. FAUST Yet am I near, and love keeps watch and ward; Though I were ne'er so far, it cannot falter: I envy even the Body of the Lord The touching of her lips, before the altar. MEPHISTOPHELES 'Tis very well! _My_ envy oft reposes On your twin-pair, that feed among the roses. FAUST Away, thou pimp! MEPHISTOPHELES You rail, and it is fun to me. The God, who fashioned youth and maid, Perceived the noblest purpose of His trade, And also made their opportunity. Go on! It is a woe profound! 'Tis for your sweetheart's room you're bound, And not for death, indeed. FAUST What are, within her arms, the heavenly blisses? Though I be glowing with her kisses, Do I not always share her need? I am the fugitive, all houseless roaming, The monster without air or rest, That like a cataract, down rocks and gorges foaming, Leaps, maddened, into the abyss's breast! And side-wards she, with young unwakened senses, Within her cabin on the Alpine field Her simple, homely life commences, Her little world therein concealed. And I, God's hate flung o'er me, Had not enough, to thrust The stubborn rocks before me And strike them into dust! She and her peace I yet must undermine: Thou, Hell, hast claimed this sacrifice as thine! Help, Devil! through the coming pangs to push me; What must be, let it quickly be! Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me,-- One ruin whelm both her and me! MEPHISTOPHELES Again it seethes, again it glows! Thou fool, go in and comfort her! When such a head as thine no outlet knows, It thinks the end must soon occur. Hail him, who keeps a steadfast mind! Thou, else, dost well the devil-nature wear: Naught so insipid in the world I find As is a devil in despair. [Illustration] [Illustration] XV MARGARET'S ROOM MARGARET (_at the spinning-wheel, alone_) My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore! Save I have him near. The grave is here; The world is gall And bitterness all. My poor weak head Is racked and crazed; My thought is lost, My senses mazed. My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore! To see him, him only, At the pane I sit; To meet him, him only, The house I quit. His lofty gait, His noble size, The smile of his mouth, The power of his eyes, And the magic flow Of his talk, the bliss In the clasp of his hand, And, ah! his kiss! My peace is gone, My heart is sore: I never shall find it, Ah, nevermore! My bosom yearns For him alone; Ah, dared I clasp him, And hold, and own! And kiss his mouth, To heart's desire, And on his kisses At last expire! [Illustration] XVI MARTHA'S GARDEN MARGARET FAUST MARGARET Promise me, Henry!-- FAUST What I can! MARGARET How is't with thy religion, pray? Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, And yet, I think, dost not incline that way. FAUST Leave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender; For love, my blood and life would I surrender, And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own. MARGARET That's not enough: we must believe thereon. FAUST Must we? MARGARET Would that I had some influence! Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments. FAUST I honor them. MARGARET Desiring no possession 'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession. Believest thou in God? FAUST My darling, who shall dare "I believe in God!" to say? Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, And it will seem a mocking play, A sarcasm on the asker. MARGARET Then thou believest not! FAUST Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance! Who dare express Him? And who profess Him, Saying: I believe in Him! Who, feeling, seeing, Deny His being, Saying: I believe Him not! The All-enfolding, The All-upholding, Folds and upholds he not Thee, me, Himself? Arches not there the sky above us? Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth? And rise not, on us shining, Friendly, the everlasting stars? Look I not, eye to eye, on thee, And feel'st not, thronging To head and heart, the force, Still weaving its eternal secret, Invisible, visible, round thy life? Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart, And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art, Call it, then, what thou wilt,-- Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! I have no name to give it! Feeling is all in all: The Name is sound and smoke, Obscuring Heaven's clear glow. MARGARET All that is fine and good, to hear it so: Much the same way the preacher spoke, Only with slightly different phrases. FAUST The same thing, in all places, All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day-- Each in its language--say; Then why not I, in mine, as well? MARGARET To hear it thus, it may seem passable; And yet, some hitch in't there must be For thou hast no Christianity. FAUST Dear love! MARGARET I've long been grieved to see That thou art in such company. FAUST How so? MARGARET The man who with thee goes, thy mate, Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate. In all my life there's nothing Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing, As his repulsive face has done. FAUST Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one! MARGARET I feel his presence like something ill. I've else, for all, a kindly will, But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth, The secret horror of him returneth; And I think the man a knave, as I live! If I do him wrong, may God forgive! FAUST There must be such queer birds, however. MARGARET Live with the like of him, may I never! When once inside the door comes he, He looks around so sneeringly, And half in wrath: One sees that in nothing no interest he hath: 'Tis written on his very forehead That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd. I am so happy on thine arm, So free, so yielding, and so warm, And in his presence stifled seems my heart. FAUST Foreboding angel that thou art! MARGARET It overcomes me in such degree, That wheresoe'er he meets us, even, I feel as though I'd lost my love for thee. When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven. That burns within me like a flame, And surely, Henry, 'tis with thee the same. FAUST There, now, is thine antipathy! MARGARET But I must go. FAUST Ah, shall there never be A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted, With breast to breast, and soul to soul united? MARGARET Ah, if I only slept alone! I'd draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire; But mother's sleep so light has grown, And if we were discovered by her, 'Twould be my death upon the spot! FAUST Thou angel, fear it not! Here is a phial: in her drink But three drops of it measure, And deepest sleep will on her senses sink. MARGARET What would I not, to give thee pleasure? It will not harm her, when one tries it? FAUST If 'twould, my love, would I advise it? MARGARET Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see, I know not what compels me to thy will: So much have I already done for thee, That scarcely more is left me to fulfil. (_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) [_Exit_. MEPHISTOPHELES The monkey! Is she gone? FAUST Hast played the spy again? MEPHISTOPHELES I've heard, most fully, how she drew thee. The Doctor has been catechised, 'tis plain; Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee. The girls have much desire to ascertain If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel: If there he's led, they think, he'll follow them as well. FAUST Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own How this pure soul, of faith so lowly, So loving and ineffable,-- The faith alone That her salvation is,--with scruples holy Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well! MEPHISTOPHELES Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire, A girl by the nose is leading thee. FAUST Abortion, thou, of filth and fire! MEPHISTOPHELES And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy! When I am present she's impressed, she knows not how; She in my mask a hidden sense would read: She feels that surely I'm a genius now,-- Perhaps the very Devil, indeed! Well, well,--to-night--? FAUST What's that to thee? MEPHISTOPHELES Yet my delight 'twill also be! [Illustration] [Illustration] XVII AT THE FOUNTAIN MARGARET _and_ LISBETH _With pitchers_. LISBETH Hast nothing heard of Barbara? MARGARET No, not a word. I go so little out. LISBETH It's true, Sibylla said, to-day. She's played the fool at last, there's not a doubt. Such taking-on of airs! MARGARET How so? LISBETH It stinks! She's feeding two, whene'er she eats and drinks. MARGARET Ah! LISBETH And so, at last, it serves her rightly. She clung to the fellow so long and tightly! That was a promenading! At village and dance parading! As the first they must everywhere shine, And he treated her always to pies and wine, And she made a to-do with her face so fine; So mean and shameless was her behavior, She took all the presents the fellow gave her. 'Twas kissing and coddling, on and on! So now, at the end, the flower is gone. MARGARET The poor, poor thing! LISBETH Dost pity her, at that? When one of us at spinning sat, And mother, nights, ne'er let us out the door She sported with her paramour. On the door-bench, in the passage dark, The length of the time they'd never mark. So now her head no more she'll lift, But do church-penance in her sinner's shift! MARGARET He'll surely take her for his wife. LISBETH He'd be a fool! A brisk young blade Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade. Besides, he's gone. MARGARET That is not fair! LISBETH If him she gets, why let her beware! The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor, And we'll scatter chaff before her door! [_Exit_. MARGARET (_returning home_) How scornfully I once reviled, When some poor maiden was beguiled! More speech than any tongue suffices I craved, to censure others' vices. Black as it seemed, I blackened still, And blacker yet was in my will; And blessed myself, and boasted high,-- And now--a living sin am I! Yet--all that drove my heart thereto, God! was so good, so dear, so true! [Illustration] [Illustration] XVIII DONJON (_In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_.) MARGARET (_putting fresh flowers in the pots_) Incline, O Maiden, Thou sorrow-laden, Thy gracious countenance upon my pain! The sword Thy heart in, With anguish smarting, Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is slain! Thou seest the Father; Thy sad sighs gather, And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain! Ah, past guessing, Beyond expressing, The pangs that wring my flesh and bone! Why this anxious heart so burneth, Why it trembleth, why it yearneth, Knowest Thou, and Thou alone! Where'er I go, what sorrow, What woe, what woe and sorrow Within my bosom aches! Alone, and ah! unsleeping, I'm weeping, weeping, weeping, The heart within me breaks. The pots before my window, Alas! my tears did wet, As in the early morning For thee these flowers I set. Within my lonely chamber The morning sun shone red: I sat, in utter sorrow, Already on my bed. Help! rescue me from death and stain! O Maiden! Thou sorrow-laden, Incline Thy countenance upon my pain! [Illustration] [Illustration] XIX NIGHT STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET'S _brother_) When I have sat at some carouse. Where each to each his brag allows, And many a comrade praised to me His pink of girls right lustily, With brimming glass that spilled the toast, And elbows planted as in boast: I sat in unconcerned repose, And heard the swagger as it rose. And stroking then my beard, I'd say, Smiling, the bumper in my hand: "Each well enough in her own way. But is there one in all the land Like sister Margaret, good as gold,-- One that to her can a candle hold?" Cling! clang! "Here's to her!" went around The board: "He speaks the truth!" cried some; "In her the flower o' the sex is found!" And all the swaggerers were dumb. And now!--I could tear my hair with vexation. And dash out my brains in desperation! With turned-up nose each scamp may face me, With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me, And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting, A chance-dropped word may set me sweating! Yet, though I thresh them all together, I cannot call them liars, either. But what comes sneaking, there, to view? If I mistake not, there are two. If _he's_ one, let me at him drive! He shall not leave the spot alive. FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST How from the window of the sacristy Upward th'eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer, That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer, Till darkness closes from the sky! The shadows thus within my bosom gather. MEPHISTOPHELES I'm like a sentimental tom-cat, rather, That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps, And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps: Quite virtuous, withal, I come, A little thievish and a little frolicsome. I feel in every limb the presage Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night: Day after to-morrow brings its message, And one keeps watch then with delight. FAUST Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be, Which there, behind, I glimmering see? MEPHISTOPHELES Shalt soon experience the pleasure, To lift the kettle with its treasure. I lately gave therein a squint-- Saw splendid lion-dollars in 't. FAUST Not even a jewel, not a ring, To deck therewith my darling girl? MEPHISTOPHELES I saw, among the rest, a thing That seemed to be a chain of pearl. FAUST That's well, indeed! For painful is it To bring no gift when her I visit. MEPHISTOPHELES Thou shouldst not find it so annoying, Without return to be enjoying. Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng, Thou'lt hear a masterpiece, no work completer: I'll sing her, first, a moral song, The surer, afterwards, to cheat her. (_Sings to the cither_.) What dost thou here In daybreak clear, Kathrina dear, Before thy lover's door? Beware! the blade Lets in a maid. That out a maid Departeth nevermore! The coaxing shun Of such an one! When once 'tis done Good-night to thee, poor thing! Love's time is brief: Unto no thief Be warm and lief, But with the wedding-ring! VALENTINE (_comes forward_) Whom wilt thou lure? God's-element! Rat-catching piper, thou!--perdition! To the Devil, first, the instrument! To the Devil, then, the curst musician! MEPHISTOPHELES The cither's smashed! For nothing more 'tis fitting. VALENTINE There's yet a skull I must be splitting! MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Sir Doctor, don't retreat, I pray! Stand by: I'll lead, if you'll but tarry: Out with your spit, without delay! You've but to lunge, and I will parry. VALENTINE Then parry that! MEPHISTOPHELES Why not? 'tis light. VALENTINE That, too! MEPHISTOPHELES Of course. VALENTINE I think the Devil must fight! How is it, then? my hand's already lame: MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Thrust home! VALENTINE (_jails_) O God! MEPHISTOPHELES Now is the lubber tame! But come, away! 'Tis time for us to fly; For there arises now a murderous cry. With the police 'twere easy to compound it, But here the penal court will sift and sound it. [_Exit with_ FAUST. MARTHA (_at the window_) Come out! Come out! MARGARET (_at the window_) Quick, bring a light! MARTHA (_as above_) They swear and storm, they yell and fight! PEOPLE Here lies one dead already--see! MARTHA (_coming from the house_) The murderers, whither have they run? MARGARET (_coming out_) Who lies here? PEOPLE 'Tis thy mother's son! MARGARET Almighty God! what misery! VALENTINE I'm dying! That is quickly said, And quicker yet 'tis done. Why howl, you women there? Instead, Come here and listen, every one! (_All gather around him_) My Margaret, see! still young thou art, But not the least bit shrewd or smart, Thy business thus to slight: So this advice I bid thee heed-- Now that thou art a whore indeed, Why, be one then, outright! MARGARET My brother! God! such words to me? VALENTINE In this game let our Lord God be! What's done's already done, alas! What follows it, must come to pass. With one begin'st thou secretly, Then soon will others come to thee, And when a dozen thee have known, Thou'rt also free to all the town. When Shame is born and first appears, She is in secret brought to light, And then they draw the veil of night Over her head and ears; Her life, in fact, they're loath to spare her. But let her growth and strength display, She walks abroad unveiled by day, Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. The uglier she is to sight, The more she seeks the day's broad light. The time I verily can discern When all the honest folk will turn From thee, thou jade! and seek protection As from a corpse that breeds infection. Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee. When they but look thee in the face:-- Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, Nor at the altar take thy place! Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, Make merry when the dance is going! But in some corner, woe betide thee! Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; And so, though even God forgive, On earth a damned existence live! MARTHA Commend your soul to God for pardon, That you your heart with slander harden! VALENTINE Thou pimp most infamous, be still! Could I thy withered body kill, 'Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure, Forgiveness in the richest measure. MARGARET My brother! This is Hell's own pain! VALENTINE I tell thee, from thy tears refrain! When thou from honor didst depart It stabbed me to the very heart. Now through the slumber of the grave I go to God as a soldier brave. (_Dies_.) [Illustration] [Illustration] XX CATHEDRAL SERVICE, ORGAN _and_ ANTHEM. (MARGARET _among much people: the_ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGARET.) EVIL SPIRIT HOW otherwise was it, Margaret, When thou, still innocent, Here to the altar cam'st, And from the worn and fingered book Thy prayers didst prattle, Half sport of childhood, Half God within thee! Margaret! Where tends thy thought? Within thy bosom What hidden crime? Pray'st thou for mercy on thy mother's soul, That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee? Upon thy threshold whose the blood? And stirreth not and quickens Something beneath thy heart, Thy life disquieting With most foreboding presence? MARGARET Woe! woe! Would I were free from the thoughts That cross me, drawing hither and thither Despite me! CHORUS _Diesira, dies illa, Solvet soeclum in favilla_! _(Sound of the organ_.) EVIL SPIRIT Wrath takes thee! The trumpet peals! The graves tremble! And thy heart From ashy rest To fiery torments Now again requickened, Throbs to life! MARGARET Would I were forth! I feel as if the organ here My breath takes from me, My very heart Dissolved by the anthem! CHORUS _Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet, ad parebit, Nil inultum remanebit_. MARGARET I cannot breathe! The massy pillars Imprison me! The vaulted arches Crush me!--Air! EVIL SPIRIT Hide thyself! Sin and shame Stay never hidden. Air? Light? Woe to thee! CHORUS _Quid sum miser tunc dicturus, Quem patronem rogaturus, Cum vix Justus sit securus_? EVIL SPIRIT They turn their faces, The glorified, from thee: The pure, their hands to offer, Shuddering, refuse thee! Woe! CHORUS _Quid sum miser tune dicturus_? MARGARET Neighbor! your cordial! (_She falls in a swoon_.) [Illustration] [Illustration] XXI WALPURGIS-NIGHT THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. _District of Schierke and Elend_. FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES MEPHISTOPHELES DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed's assistance? The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: The way we take, our goal is yet some distance. FAUST So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence. This knotted staff suffices me. What need to shorten so the way? Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, And even the fir-tree feels it now: Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches? MEPHISTOPHELES I notice no such thing, I vow! 'Tis winter still within my body: Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, The moon's lone disk, with its belated glow, And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, At every step one strikes a rock or tree! Let us, then, use a Jack-o'-lantern's glances: I see one yonder, burning merrily. Ho, there! my friend! I'll levy thine attendance: Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? Be kind enough to light us up the steep! WILL-O'-THE-WISP My reverence, I hope, will me enable To curb my temperament unstable; For zigzag courses we are wont to keep. MEPHISTOPHELES Indeed? he'd like mankind to imitate! Now, in the Devil's name, go straight, Or I'll blow out his being's flickering spark! WILL-O'-THE-WISP You are the master of the house, I mark, And I shall try to serve you nicely. But then, reflect: the mountain's magic-mad to-day, And if a will-o'-the-wisp must guide you on the way, You mustn't take things too precisely. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O'-THE-WISP (_in alternating song_) We, it seems, have entered newly In the sphere of dreams enchanted. Do thy bidding, guide us truly, That our feet be forwards planted In the vast, the desert spaces! See them swiftly changing places, Trees on trees beside us trooping, And the crags above us stooping, And the rocky snouts, outgrowing,-- Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! O'er the stones, the grasses, flowing Stream and streamlet seek the hollow. Hear I noises? songs that follow? Hear I tender love-petitions? Voices of those heavenly visions? Sounds of hope, of love undying! And the echoes, like traditions Of old days, come faint and hollow. Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover Jay and screech-owl, and the plover,-- Are they all awake and crying? Is't the salamander pushes, Bloated-bellied, through the bushes? And the roots, like serpents twisted, Through the sand and boulders toiling, Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling To entrap us, unresisted: Living knots and gnarls uncanny Feel with polypus-antennae For the wanderer. Mice are flying, Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing Through the moss and through the heather! And the fire-flies wink and darkle, Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle, And in wildering escort gather! Tell me, if we still are standing, Or if further we're ascending? All is turning, whirling, blending, Trees and rocks with grinning faces, Wandering lights that spin in mazes, Still increasing and expanding! MEPHISTOPHELES Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted! Here a middle-peak is planted, Whence one seeth, with amaze, Mammon in the mountain blaze. FAUST How strangely glimmers through the hollows A dreary light, like that of dawn! Its exhalation tracks and follows The deepest gorges, faint and wan. Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth; Here burns the glow through film and haze: Now like a tender thread it creepeth, Now like a fountain leaps and plays. Here winds away, and in a hundred Divided veins the valley braids: There, in a corner pressed and sundered, Itself detaches, spreads and fades. Here gush the sparkles incandescent Like scattered showers of golden sand;-- But, see! in all their height, at present, The rocky ramparts blazing stand. [Illustration: _Under the old ribs of the rock retreating_,] MEPHISTOPHELES Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted His palace for this festal night? 'Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight; The boisterous guests approach that were invited. FAUST How raves the tempest through the air! With what fierce blows upon my neck 'tis beating! MEPHISTOPHELES Under the old ribs of the rock retreating, Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there! The night with the mist is black; Hark! how the forests grind and crack! Frightened, the owlets are scattered: Hearken! the pillars are shattered. The evergreen palaces shaking! Boughs are groaning and breaking, The tree-trunks terribly thunder, The roots are twisting asunder! In frightfully intricate crashing Each on the other is dashing, And over the wreck-strewn gorges The tempest whistles and surges! Hear'st thou voices higher ringing? Far away, or nearer singing? Yes, the mountain's side along, Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song! WITCHES (_in chorus_) The witches ride to the Brocken's top, The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. There gathers the crowd for carnival: Sir Urian sits over all. And so they go over stone and stock; The witch she-----s, and-----s the buck. A VOICE Alone, old Baubo's coming now; She rides upon a farrow-sow. CHORUS Then honor to whom the honor is due! Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew! A tough old sow and the mother thereon, Then follow the witches, every one. A VOICE Which way com'st thou hither? VOICE O'er the Ilsen-stone. I peeped at the owl in her nest alone: How she stared and glared! VOICE Betake thee to Hell! Why so fast and so fell? VOICE She has scored and has flayed me: See the wounds she has made me! WITCHES (_chorus_) The way is wide, the way is long: See, what a wild and crazy throng! The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts, The child is stifled, the mother bursts. WIZARDS (_semichorus_) As doth the snail in shell, we crawl: Before us go the women all. When towards the Devil's House we tread, Woman's a thousand steps ahead. OTHER SEMICHORUS We do not measure with such care: Woman in thousand steps is theft. But howsoe'er she hasten may, Man in one leap has cleared the way. VOICE (_from above_) Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake! VOICE (_from below_) Aloft we'd fain ourselves betake. We've washed, and are bright as ever you will, Yet we're eternally sterile still. BOTH CHORUSES The wind is hushed, the star shoots by. The dreary moon forsakes the sky; The magic notes, like spark on spark, Drizzle, whistling through the dark. VOICE (_from below_) Halt, there! Ho, there! VOICE (_from above_) Who calls from the rocky cleft below there? VOICE (_below_) Take me, too! take me, too! I'm climbing now three hundred years, And yet the summit cannot see: Among my equals I would be. BOTH CHORUSES Bears the broom and bears the stock, Bears the fork and bears the buck: Who cannot raise himself to-night Is evermore a ruined wight. HALF-WITCH (_below_) So long I stumble, ill bestead, And the others are now so far ahead! At home I've neither rest nor cheer, And yet I cannot gain them here. CHORUS OF WITCHES To cheer the witch will salve avail; A rag will answer for a sail; Each trough a goodly ship supplies; He ne'er will fly, who now not flies. BOTH CHORUSES When round the summit whirls our flight, Then lower, and on the ground alight; And far and wide the heather press With witchhood's swarms of wantonness! (_They settle down_.) MEPHISTOPHELES They crowd and push, they roar and clatter! They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter! They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn! The true witch-element we learn. Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn, Where art thou? FAUST (_in the distance_) Here! MEPHISTOPHELES What! whirled so far astray? Then house-right I must use, and clear the way. Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble, room! Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we'll resume An easier space, and from the crowd be free: It's too much, even for the like of me. Yonder, with special light, there's something shining clearer Within those bushes; I've a mind to see. Come on! we'll slip a little nearer. FAUST Spirit of Contradiction! On! I'll follow straight. 'Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright: We climb the Brocken's top in the Walpurgis-Night, That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate. MEPHISTOPHELES But see, what motley flames among the heather! There is a lively club together: In smaller circles one is not alone. FAUST Better the summit, I must own: There fire and whirling smoke I see. They seek the Evil One in wild confusion: Many enigmas there might find solution. MEPHISTOPHELES But there enigmas also knotted be. Leave to the multitude their riot! Here will we house ourselves in quiet. It is an old, transmitted trade, That in the greater world the little worlds are made. I see stark-nude young witches congregate, And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly: On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely! The trouble's small, the fun is great. I hear the noise of instruments attuning,-- Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning. Come, come along! It _must_ be, I declare! I'll go ahead and introduce thee there, Thine obligation newly earning. That is no little space: what say'st thou, friend? Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end: A hundred fires along the ranks are burning. They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court: Now where, just tell me, is there better sport? FAUST Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel, Assume the part of wizard or of devil? MEPHISTOPHELES I'm mostly used, 'tis true, to go incognito, But on a gala-day one may his orders show. The Garter does not deck my suit, But honored and at home is here the cloven foot. Perceiv'st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and steady; So delicately its feelers pry, That it hath scented me already: I cannot here disguise me, if I try. But come! we'll go from this fire to a newer: I am the go-between, and thou the wooer. (_To some, who are sitting around dying embers_:) Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter! I'd praise you if I found you snugly in the centre, With youth and revel round you like a zone: You each, at home, are quite enough alone. GENERAL Say, who would put his trust in nations, Howe'er for them one may have worked and planned? For with the people, as with women, Youth always has the upper hand. MINISTER They're now too far from what is just and sage. I praise the old ones, not unduly: When we were all-in-all, then, truly, _Then_ was the real golden age. PARVENU We also were not stupid, either, And what we should not, often did; But now all things have from their bases slid, Just as we meant to hold them fast together. AUTHOR Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read? Such works are held as antiquate and mossy; And as regards the younger folk, indeed, They never yet have been so pert and saucy. MEPHISTOPHELES (_who all at once appears very old_) I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day, Now for the last time I've the witches'-hill ascended: Since to the lees _my_ cask is drained away, The world's, as well, must soon be ended. HUCKSTER-WITCH Ye gentlemen, don't pass me thus! Let not the chance neglected be! Behold my wares attentively: The stock is rare and various. And yet, there's nothing I've collected-- No shop, on earth, like this you'll find!-- Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted Upon the world, and on mankind. No dagger's here, that set not blood to flowing; No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame Poured speedy death, in poison glowing: No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame; No sword, but severed ties for the unwary, Or from behind struck down the adversary. MEPHISTOPHELES Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest: What's done has happed--what haps, is done! 'Twere better if for novelties thou sendest: By such alone can we be won. FAUST Let me not lose myself in all this pother! This is a fair, as never was another! MEPHISTOPHELES The whirlpool swirls to get above: Thou'rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove. FAUST But who is that? MEPHISTOPHELES Note her especially, Tis Lilith. FAUST Who? MEPHISTOPHELES Adam's first wife is she. Beware the lure within her lovely tresses, The splendid sole adornment of her hair! When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare, Not soon again she frees him from her jesses. FAUST Those two, the old one with the young one sitting, They've danced already more than fitting. MEPHISTOPHELES No rest to-night for young or old! They start another dance: come now, let us take hold! FAUST (_dancing with the young witch_) A lovely dream once came to me; I then beheld an apple-tree, And there two fairest apples shone: They lured me so, I climbed thereon. THE FAIR ONE Apples have been desired by you, Since first in Paradise they grew; And I am moved with joy, to know That such within my garden grow. MEPHISTOPHELES (_dancing with the old one_) A dissolute dream once came to me: Therein I saw a cloven tree, Which had a-----------------; Yet,-----as 'twas, I fancied it. THE OLD ONE I offer here my best salute Unto the knight with cloven foot! Let him a-----------prepare, If him------------------does not scare. PROKTOPHANTASMIST Accurséd folk! How dare you venture thus? Had you not, long since, demonstration That ghosts can't stand on ordinary foundation? And now you even dance, like one of us! THE FAIR ONE (_dancing_) Why does he come, then, to our ball? FAUST (_dancing_) O, everywhere on him you fall! When others dance, he weighs the matter: If he can't every step bechatter, Then 'tis the same as were the step not made; But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. If you would whirl in regular gyration As he does in his dull old mill, He'd show, at any rate, good-will,-- Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation. PROKTOPHANTASMIST You still are here? Nay, 'tis a thing unheard! Vanish, at once! We've said the enlightening word. The pack of devils by no rules is daunted: We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred! Twill ne'er be clean: why, 'tis a thing unheard! THE FAIR ONE Then cease to bore us at our ball! PROKTOPHANTASMIST I tell you, spirits, to your face, I give to spirit-despotism no place; My spirit cannot practise it at all. (_The dance continues_) Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels; Yet something from a tour I always save, And hope, before my last step to the grave, To overcome the poets and the devils. MEPHISTOPHELES He now will seat him in the nearest puddle; The solace this, whereof he's most assured: And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle, He'll be of spirits and of Spirit cured. (_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_:) Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden, That in the dance so sweetly sang? FAUST Ah! in the midst of it there sprang A red mouse from her mouth--sufficient reason. MEPHISTOPHELES That's nothing! One must not so squeamish be; So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee. Who'd think of that in love's selected season? FAUST Then saw I--. MEPHISTOPHELES What? FAUST Mephisto, seest thou there, Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair? She falters on, her way scarce knowing, As if with fettered feet that stay her going. I must confess, it seems to me As if my kindly Margaret were she. MEPHISTOPHELES Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn: It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon. Such to encounter is not good: Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood, And one is almost turned to stone. Medusa's tale to thee is known. FAUST Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying, No hand with loving pressure closed; That is the breast whereon I once was lying,-- The body sweet, beside which I reposed! MEPHISTOPHELES Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily! Unto each man his love she seems to be. FAUST The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me, That from her gaze I cannot tear me! And, strange! around her fairest throat A single scarlet band is gleaming, No broader than a knife-blade seeming! MEPHISTOPHELES Quite right! The mark I also note. Her head beneath her arm she'll sometimes carry; Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary. Thou crav'st the same illusion still! Come, let us mount this little hill; The Prater shows no livelier stir, And, if they've not bewitched my sense, I verily see a theatre. What's going on? SERVIBILIS 'Twill shortly recommence: A new performance--'tis the last of seven. To give that number is the custom here: 'Twas by a Dilettante written, And Dilettanti in the parts appear. That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you! As Dilettante I the curtain raise. MEPHISTOPHELES When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, I find it good: for that's your proper place. [Illustration] [Illustration] XXII WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM OBERON AND TITANIA's GOLDEN WEDDING INTERMEZZO MANAGER Sons of Mieding, rest to-day! Needless your machinery: Misty vale and mountain gray, That is all the scenery. HERALD That the wedding golden be. Must fifty years be rounded: But _the Golden_ give to me, When the strife's compounded. OBERON Spirits, if you're here, be seen-- Show yourselves, delighted! Fairy king and fairy queen, They are newly plighted. PUCK Cometh Puck, and, light of limb, Whisks and whirls in measure: Come a hundred after him, To share with him the pleasure. ARIEL Ariel's song is heavenly-pure, His tones are sweet and rare ones: Though ugly faces he allure, Yet he allures the fair ones. OBERON Spouses, who would fain agree, Learn how we were mated! If your pairs would loving be, First be separated! TITANIA If her whims the wife control, And the man berate her, Take him to the Northern Pole, And her to the Equator! ORCHESTRA. TUTTI. _Fortissimo_. Snout of fly, mosquito-bill, And kin of all conditions, Frog in grass, and cricket-trill,-- These are the musicians! SOLO See the bagpipe on our track! 'Tis the soap-blown bubble: Hear the _schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ Through his nostrils double! SPIRIT, JUST GROWING INTO FORM Spider's foot and paunch of toad, And little wings--we know 'em! A little creature 'twill not be, But yet, a little poem. A LITTLE COUPLE Little step and lofty leap Through honey-dew and fragrance: You'll never mount the airy steep With all your tripping vagrance. INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER Is't but masquerading play? See I with precision? Oberon, the beauteous fay, Meets, to-night, my vision! ORTHODOX Not a claw, no tail I see! And yet, beyond a cavil, Like "the Gods of Greece," must he Also be a devil. NORTHERN ARTIST I only seize, with sketchy air, Some outlines of the tourney; Yet I betimes myself prepare For my Italian journey. PURIST My bad luck brings me here, alas! How roars the orgy louder! And of the witches in the mass, But only two wear powder. YOUNG WITCH Powder becomes, like petticoat, A gray and wrinkled noddy; So I sit naked on my goat, And show a strapping body. MATRON We've too much tact and policy To rate with gibes a scolder; Yet, young and tender though you be, I hope to see you moulder. LEADER OF THE BAND Fly-snout and mosquito-bill, Don't swarm so round the Naked! Frog in grass and cricket-trill, Observe the time, and make it! WEATHERCOCK (_towards one side_) Society to one's desire! Brides only, and the sweetest! And bachelors of youth and fire. And prospects the completest! WEATHERCOCK (_towards the other side_) And if the Earth don't open now To swallow up each ranter, Why, then will I myself, I vow, Jump into hell instanter! XENIES Us as little insects see! With sharpest nippers flitting, That our Papa Satan we May honor as is fitting. HENNINGS How, in crowds together massed, They are jesting, shameless! They will even say, at last, That their hearts are blameless. MUSAGETES Among this witches' revelry His way one gladly loses; And, truly, it would easier be Than to command the Muses. CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE The proper folks one's talents laud: Come on, and none shall pass us! The Blocksberg has a summit broad, Like Germany's Parnassus. INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER Say, who's the stiff and pompous man? He walks with haughty paces: He snuffles all he snuffle can: "He scents the Jesuits' traces." CRANE Both clear and muddy streams, for me Are good to fish and sport in: And thus the pious man you see With even devils consorting. WORLDLING Yes, for the pious, I suspect, All instruments are fitting; And on the Blocksberg they erect Full many a place of meeting. DANCER A newer chorus now succeeds! I hear the distant drumming. "Don't be disturbed! 'tis, in the reeds, The bittern's changeless booming." DANCING-MASTER How each his legs in nimble trip Lifts up, and makes a clearance! The crooked jump, the heavy skip, Nor care for the appearance. GOOD FELLOW The rabble by such hate are held, To maim and slay delights them: As Orpheus' lyre the brutes compelled, The bagpipe here unites them. DOGMATIST I'll not be led by any lure Of doubts or critic-cavils: The Devil must be something, sure,-- Or how should there be devils? IDEALIST This once, the fancy wrought in me Is really too despotic: Forsooth, if I am all I see, I must be idiotic! REALIST This racking fuss on every hand, It gives me great vexation; And, for the first time, here I stand On insecure foundation. SUPERNATURALIST With much delight I see the play, And grant to these their merits, Since from the devils I also may Infer the better spirits. SCEPTIC The flame they follow, on and on, And think they're near the treasure: But _Devil_ rhymes with _Doubt_ alone, So I am here with pleasure. LEADER OF THE BAND Frog in green, and cricket-trill. Such dilettants!--perdition! Fly-snout and mosquito-bill,-- Each one's a fine musician! THE ADROIT _Sans souci_, we call the clan Of merry creatures so, then; Go a-foot no more we can, And on our heads we go, then. THE AWKWARD Once many a bit we sponged, but now, God help us! that is done with: Our shoes are all danced out, we trow, We've but naked soles to run with. WILL-O'-THE WISPS From the marshes we appear, Where we originated; Yet in the ranks, at once, we're here As glittering gallants rated. SHOOTING-STAR Darting hither from the sky, In star and fire light shooting, Cross-wise now in grass I lie: Who'll help me to my footing? THE HEAVY FELLOWS Room! and round about us, room! Trodden are the grasses: Spirits also, spirits come, And they are bulky masses. PUCK Enter not so stall-fed quite, Like elephant-calves about one! And the heaviest weight to-night Be Puck, himself, the stout one! ARIEL If loving Nature at your back, Or Mind, the wings uncloses, Follow up my airy track To the mount of roses! ORCHESTRA _pianissimo_ Cloud and trailing mist o'erhead Are now illuminated: Air in leaves, and wind in reed, And all is dissipated. [Illustration] XXIII DREARY DAY A FIELD FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST In misery! In despair! Long wretchedly astray on the face of the earth, and now imprisoned! That gracious, ill-starred creature shut in a dungeon as a criminal, and given up to fearful torments! To this has it come! to this!--Treacherous, contemptible spirit, and thou hast concealed it from me!--Stand, then,--stand! Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head! Stand and defy me with thine intolerable presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Delivered up to evil spirits, and to condemning, unfeeling Man! And thou hast lulled me, meanwhile, with the most insipid dissipations, hast concealed from me her increasing wretchedness, and suffered her to go helplessly to ruin! [Illustration: _Roll the devilish eyes wrathfully in thy head_] MEPHISTOPHELES She is not the first. FAUST Dog! Abominable monster! Transform him, thou Infinite Spirit! transform the reptile again into his dog-shape? in which it pleased him often at night to scamper on before me, to roll himself at the feet of the unsuspecting wanderer, and hang upon his shoulders when he fell! Transform him again into his favorite likeness, that he may crawl upon his belly in the dust before me,--that I may trample him, the outlawed, under foot! Not the first! O woe! woe which no human soul can grasp, that more than one being should sink into the depths of this misery,--that the first, in its writhing death-agony under the eyes of the Eternal Forgiver, did not expiate the guilt of all others! The misery of this single one pierces to the very marrow of my life; and thou art calmly grinning at the fate of thousands! MEPHISTOPHELES Now we are already again at the end of our wits, where the understanding of you men runs wild. Why didst thou enter into fellowship with us, if thou canst not carry it out? Wilt fly, and art not secure against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves upon thee, or thou thyself upon us? FAUST Gnash not thus thy devouring teeth at me? It fills me with horrible disgust. Mighty, glorious Spirit, who hast vouchsafed to me Thine apparition, who knowest my heart and my soul, why fetter me to the felon-comrade, who feeds on mischief and gluts himself with ruin? MEPHISTOPHELES Hast thou done? FAUST Rescue her, or woe to thee! The fearfullest curse be upon thee for thousands of ages! MEPHISTOPHELES I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger, nor undo his bolts. Rescue her? Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I, or thou? (FAUST _looks around wildly_.) Wilt thou grasp the thunder? Well that it has not been given to you, miserable mortals! To crush to pieces the innocent respondent--that is the tyrant-fashion of relieving one's self in embarrassments. FAUST Take me thither! She shall be free! MEPHISTOPHELES And the danger to which thou wilt expose thyself? Know that the guilt of blood, from thy hand, still lies upon the town! Avenging spirits hover over the spot where the victim fell, and lie in wait for the returning murderer. FAUST That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! Take me thither, I say, and liberate her! MEPHISTOPHELES I will convey thee there; and hear, what I can do! Have I all the power in Heaven and on Earth? I will becloud the jailer's senses: get possession of the key, and lead her forth with human hand! I will keep watch: the magic steeds are ready, I will carry you off. So much is in my power. FAUST Up and away! [Illustration] XXIV NIGHT OPEN FIELD (FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES _speeding onward on black horses_.) FAUST What weave they there round the raven-stone? MEPHISTOPHELES I know not what they are brewing and doing. FAUST Soaring up, sweeping down, bowing and bending! MEPHISTOPHELES A witches'-guild. FAUST They scatter, devote and doom! MEPHISTOPHELES On! on! [Illustration] XXV DUNGEON FAUST (_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_) A shudder, long unfelt, comes o'er me; Mankind's collected woe o'erwhelms me, here. She dwells within the dark, damp walls before me, And all her crime was a delusion dear! What! I delay to free her? I dread, once again to see her? On! my shrinking but lingers Death more near. (_He grasps the lock: the sound of singing is heard inside_.) _My mother, the harlot, Who put me to death; My father, the varlet, Who eaten me hath! Little sister, so good, Laid my bones in the wood, In the damp moss and clay:_ _Then was I a beautiful bird o' the wood; Fly away! Fly away_! FAUST _(unlocking)_ She does not dream her lover listens near; That he the rattling chain, the rustling straw, can hear. _(He enters_.) MARGARET (_hiding herself on the pallet_) Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness! FAUST (_whispering_) Hush! hush! The hour is come that frees thee. MARGARET (_throwing herself before him_) Art thou a man, then pity my distress! FAUST Thy cries will wake the guards, and they will seize thee! (_He takes hold of the fetters to unlock them_.) MARGARET (_on her knees_) Who, headsman! unto thee such power Over me could give? Thou'rt come for me at midnight-hour: Have mercy on me, let me live! Is't not soon enough when morning chime has run? (_She rises_.) And I am yet so young, so young! And now Death comes, and ruin! I, too, was fair, and that was my undoing. My love was near, but now he's far; Torn lies the wreath, scattered the blossoms are. Seize me not thus so violently! Spare me! What have I done to thee? Let me not vainly entreat thee! I never chanced, in all my days, to meet thee! FAUST Shall I outlive this misery? MARGARET Now am I wholly in thy might. But let me suckle, first, my baby! I blissed it all this livelong night; They took 't away, to vex me, maybe, And now they say I killed the child outright. And never shall I be glad again. They sing songs about me! 'tis bad of the folk to do it! There's an old story has the same refrain; Who bade them so construe it? FAUST (_falling upon his knees_) Here lieth one who loves thee ever, The thraldom of thy woe to sever. MARGARET (_flinging herself beside him_) O let us kneel, and call the Saints to hide us! Under the steps beside us, The threshold under, Hell heaves in thunder! The Evil One With terrible wrath Seeketh a path His prey to discover! FAUST (_aloud_) Margaret! Margaret! MARGARET (_attentively listening_) That was the voice of my lover! (_She springs to her feet: the fetters fall off_.) Where is he? I heard him call me. I am free! No one shall enthrall me. To his neck will I fly, On his bosom lie! On the threshold he stood, and _Margaret_! calling, Midst of Hell's howling and noises appalling, Midst of the wrathful, infernal derision, I knew the sweet sound of the voice of the vision! FAUST 'Tis I! MARGARET 'Tis thou! O, say it once again! (_Clasping him_.) 'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain? The anguish of the dungeon, and the chain? 'Tis thou! Thou comest to save me, And I am saved!-- Again the street I see Where first I looked on thee; And the garden, brightly blooming, Where I and Martha wait thy coming. FAUST (_struggling to leave_) Come! Come with me! MARGARET Delay, now! So fain I stay, when thou delayest! (_Caressing him_.) FAUST Away, now! If longer here thou stayest, We shall be made to dearly rue it. MARGARET Kiss me!--canst no longer do it? My friend, so short a time thou'rt missing, And hast unlearned thy kissing? Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast? Where once a heaven thy glances did create me, A heaven thy loving words expressed, And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me-- Kiss me! Or I'll kiss thee! (_She embraces him_.) Ah, woe! thy lips are chill, And still. How changed in fashion Thy passion! Who has done me this ill? (_She turns away from him_.) FAUST Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold: I'll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold; But follow now! 'Tis all I beg of thee. MARGARET (_turning to him_) And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly? FAUST 'Tis I! Come on! MARGARET Thou wilt unloose my chain, And in thy lap wilt take me once again. How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?-- Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak'st free? FAUST Come! come! The night already vanisheth. MARGARET My mother have I put to death; I've drowned the baby born to thee. Was it not given to thee and me? Thee, too!--'Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem-- Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream! Thy dear, dear hand!--But, ah, 'tis wet! Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet There's blood thereon. Ah, God! what hast thou done? Nay, sheathe thy sword at last! Do not affray me! FAUST O, let the past be past! Thy words will slay me! MARGARET No, no! Thou must outlive us. Now I'll tell thee the graves to give us: Thou must begin to-morrow The work of sorrow! The best place give to my mother, Then close at her side my brother, And me a little away, But not too very far, I pray! And here, on my right breast, my baby lay! Nobody else will lie beside me!-- Ah, within thine arms to hide me, That was a sweet and a gracious bliss, But no more, no more can I attain it! I would force myself on thee and constrain it, And it seems thou repellest my kiss: And yet 'tis thou, so good, so kind to see! FAUST If thou feel'st it is I, then come with me! MARGARET Out yonder? FAUST To freedom. MARGARET If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come! From here to eternal rest: No further step--no, no! Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go! FAUST Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door. MARGARET I dare not go: there's no hope any more. Why should I fly? They'll still my steps waylay! It is so wretched, forced to beg my living, And a bad conscience sharper misery giving! It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken, And I'd still be followed and taken! FAUST I'll stay with thee. MARGARET Be quick! Be quick! Save thy perishing child! Away! Follow the ridge Up by the brook, [Illustration: _=If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come=_!] Over the bridge, Into the wood, To the left, where the plank is placed In the pool! Seize it in haste! 'Tis trying to rise, 'Tis struggling still! Save it! Save it! FAUST Recall thy wandering will! One step, and thou art free at last! MARGARET If the mountain we had only passed! There sits my mother upon a stone,-- I feel an icy shiver! There sits my mother upon a stone, And her head is wagging ever. She beckons, she nods not, her heavy head falls o'er; She slept so long that she wakes no more. She slept, while we were caressing: Ah, those were the days of blessing! FAUST Here words and prayers are nothing worth; I'll venture, then, to bear thee forth. MARGARET No--let me go! I'll suffer no force! Grasp me not so murderously! I've done, else, all things for the love of thee. FAUST The day dawns: Dearest! Dearest! MARGARET Day? Yes, the day comes,--the last day breaks for me! My wedding-day it was to be! Tell no one thou has been with Margaret! Woe for my garland! The chances Are over--'tis all in vain! We shall meet once again, But not at the dances! The crowd is thronging, no word is spoken: The square below And the streets overflow: The death-bell tolls, the wand is broken. I am seized, and bound, and delivered-- Shoved to the block--they give the sign! Now over each neck has quivered The blade that is quivering over mine. Dumb lies the world like the grave! FAUST O had I ne'er been born! MEPHISTOPHELES (_appears outside_) Off! or you're lost ere morn. Useless talking, delaying and praying! My horses are neighing: The morning twilight is near. MARGARET What rises up from the threshold here? He! he! suffer him not! What does he want in this holy spot? He seeks me! FAUST Thou shalt live. MARGARET Judgment of God! myself to thee I give. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Come! or I'll leave her in the lurch, and thee! MARGARET Thine am I, Father! rescue me! Ye angels, holy cohorts, guard me, Camp around, and from evil ward me! Henry! I shudder to think of thee. MEPHISTOPHELES She is judged! VOICE (_from above_) She is saved! MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Hither to me! (_He disappears with_ FAUST.) VOICE (_from within, dying away_) Henry! Henry! [illustration] [Illustration] 
14460	----	FAUST A TRAGEDY TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE WITH NOTES BY CHARLES T BROOKS SEVENTH EDITION. BOSTON TICKNOR AND FIELDS MDCCCLXVIII. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by CHARLES T. BROOKS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Rhode Island. UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, CAMBRIDGE. TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. Perhaps some apology ought to be given to English scholars, that is, those who do not know German, (to those, at least, who do not know what sort of a thing Faust is in the original,) for offering another translation to the public, of a poem which has been already translated, not only in a literal prose form, but also, twenty or thirty times, in metre, and sometimes with great spirit, beauty, and power. The author of the present version, then, has no knowledge that a rendering of this wonderful poem into the exact and ever-changing metre of the original has, until now, been so much as attempted. To name only one defect, the very best versions which he has seen neglect to follow the exquisite artist in the evidently planned and orderly intermixing of _male_ and _female_ rhymes, _i.e._ rhymes which fall on the last syllable and those which fall on the last but one. Now, every careful student of the versification of Faust must feel and see that Goethe did not intersperse the one kind of rhyme with the other, at random, as those translators do; who, also, give the female rhyme (on which the vivacity of dialogue and description often so much depends,) in so small a proportion. A similar criticism might be made of their liberty in neglecting Goethe's method of alternating different measures with each other. It seems as if, in respect to metre, at least, they had asked themselves, how would Goethe have written or shaped this in English, had that been his native language, instead of seeking _con amore_ (and _con fidelità_) as they should have done, to reproduce, both in spirit and in form, the movement, so free and yet orderly, of the singularly endowed and accomplished poet whom they undertook to represent. As to the objections which Hayward and some of his reviewers have instituted in advance against the possibility of a good and faithful metrical translation of a poem like Faust, they seem to the present translator full of paradox and sophistry. For instance, take this assertion of one of the reviewers: "The sacred and mysterious union of thought with verse, twin-born and immortally wedded from the moment of their common birth, can never be understood by those who desire verse translations of good poetry." If the last part of this statement had read "by those who can be contented with _prose_ translations of good poetry," the position would have been nearer the truth. This much we might well admit, that, if the alternative were either to have a poem like Faust in a metre different and glaringly different from the original, or to have it in simple and strong prose, then the latter alternative would be the one every tasteful and feeling scholar would prefer; but surely to every one who can read the original or wants to know how this great song _sung itself_ (as Carlyle says) out of Goethe's soul, a mere prose rendering must be, comparatively, a _corpus mortuum._ The translator most heartily dissents from Hayward's assertion that a translator of Faust "must sacrifice either metre or meaning." At least he flatters himself that he has made, in the main, (not a compromise between meaning and melody, though in certain instances he may have fallen into that, but) a combination of the meaning with the melody, which latter is so important, so vital a part of the lyric poem's meaning, in any worthy sense. "No poetic translation," says Hayward's reviewer, already quoted, "can give the rhythm and rhyme of the original; it can only substitute the rhythm and rhyme of the translator." One might just as well say "no _prose_ translation can give the _sense and spirit_ of the original; it can only substitute the _sense and spirit of the words and phrases of the translator's language_;" and then, these two assertions balancing each other, there will remain in the metrical translator's favor, that he may come as near to giving both the letter and the spirit, as the effects of the Babel dispersion will allow. As to the original creation, which he has attempted here to reproduce, the translator might say something, but prefers leaving his readers to the poet himself, as revealed in the poem, and to the various commentaries of which we have some accounts, at least, in English. A French translator of the poem speaks in his introduction as follows: "This Faust, conceived by him in his youth, completed in ripe age, the idea of which he carried with him through all the commotions of his life, as Camoens bore his poem with him through the waves, this Faust contains him entire. The thirst for knowledge and the martyrdom of doubt, had they not tormented his early years? Whence came to him the thought of taking refuge in a supernatural realm, of appealing to invisible powers, which plunged him, for a considerable time, into the dreams of Illuminati and made him even invent a religion? This irony of Mephistopheles, who carries on so audacious a game with the weakness and the desires of man, is it not the mocking, scornful side of the poet's spirit, a leaning to sullenness, which can be traced even into the earliest years of his life, a bitter leaven thrown into a strong soul forever by early satiety? The character of Faust especially, the man whose burning, untiring heart can neither enjoy fortune nor do without it, who gives himself unconditionally and watches himself with mistrust, who unites the enthusiasm of passion and the dejectedness of despair, is not this an eloquent opening up of the most secret and tumultuous part of the poet's soul? And now, to complete the image of his inner life, he has added the transcendingly sweet person of Margaret, an exalted reminiscence of a young girl, by whom, at the age of fourteen, he thought himself beloved, whose image ever floated round him, and has contributed some traits to each of his heroines. This heavenly surrender of a simple, good, and tender heart contrasts wonderfully with the sensual and gloomy passion of the lover, who, in the midst of his love-dreams, is persecuted by the phantoms of his imagination and by the nightmares of thought, with those sorrows of a soul, which is crushed, but not extinguished, which is tormented by the invincible want of happiness and the bitter feeling, how hard a thing it is to receive or to bestow." DEDICATION.[1] Once more ye waver dreamily before me, Forms that so early cheered my troubled eyes! To hold you fast doth still my heart implore me? Still bid me clutch the charm that lures and flies? Ye crowd around! come, then, hold empire o'er me, As from the mist and haze of thought ye rise; The magic atmosphere, your train enwreathing, Through my thrilled bosom youthful bliss is breathing. Ye bring with you the forms of hours Elysian, And shades of dear ones rise to meet my gaze; First Love and Friendship steal upon my vision Like an old tale of legendary days; Sorrow renewed, in mournful repetition, Runs through life's devious, labyrinthine ways; And, sighing, names the good (by Fortune cheated Of blissful hours!) who have before me fleeted. These later songs of mine, alas! will never Sound in their ears to whom the first were sung! Scattered like dust, the friendly throng forever! Mute the first echo that so grateful rung! To the strange crowd I sing, whose very favor Like chilling sadness on my heart is flung; And all that kindled at those earlier numbers Roams the wide earth or in its bosom slumbers. And now I feel a long-unwonted yearning For that calm, pensive spirit-realm, to-day; Like an Aeolian lyre, (the breeze returning,) Floats in uncertain tones my lisping lay; Strange awe comes o'er me, tear on tear falls burning, The rigid heart to milder mood gives way! What I possess I see afar off lying, And what I lost is real and undying. PRELUDE IN THE THEATRE. _Manager. Dramatic Poet. Merry Person._ _Manager_. You who in trouble and distress Have both held fast your old allegiance, What think ye? here in German regions Our enterprise may hope success? To please the crowd my purpose has been steady, Because they live and let one live at least. The posts are set, the boards are laid already, And every one is looking for a feast. They sit, with lifted brows, composed looks wearing, Expecting something that shall set them staring. I know the public palate, that's confest; Yet never pined so for a sound suggestion; True, they are not accustomed to the best, But they have read a dreadful deal, past question. How shall we work to make all fresh and new, Acceptable and profitable, too? For sure I love to see the torrent boiling, When towards our booth they crowd to find a place, Now rolling on a space and then recoiling, Then squeezing through the narrow door of grace: Long before dark each one his hard-fought station In sight of the box-office window takes, And as, round bakers' doors men crowd to escape starvation, For tickets here they almost break their necks. This wonder, on so mixed a mass, the Poet Alone can work; to-day, my friend, O, show it! _Poet_. Oh speak not to me of that motley ocean, Whose roar and greed the shuddering spirit chill! Hide from my sight that billowy commotion That draws us down the whirlpool 'gainst our will. No, lead me to that nook of calm devotion, Where blooms pure joy upon the Muses' hill; Where love and friendship aye create and cherish, With hand divine, heart-joys that never perish. Ah! what, from feeling's deepest fountain springing, Scarce from the stammering lips had faintly passed, Now, hopeful, venturing forth, now shyly clinging, To the wild moment's cry a prey is cast. Oft when for years the brain had heard it ringing It comes in full and rounded shape at last. What shines, is born but for the moment's pleasure; The genuine leaves posterity a treasure. _Merry Person_. Posterity! I'm sick of hearing of it; Supposing I the future age would profit, Who then would furnish ours with fun? For it must have it, ripe and mellow; The presence of a fine young fellow, Is cheering, too, methinks, to any one. Whoso can pleasantly communicate, Will not make war with popular caprices, For, as the circle waxes great, The power his word shall wield increases. Come, then, and let us now a model see, Let Phantasy with all her various choir, Sense, reason, passion, sensibility, But, mark me, folly too! the scene inspire. _Manager_. But the great point is action! Every one Comes as spectator, and the show's the fun. Let but the plot be spun off fast and thickly, So that the crowd shall gape in broad surprise, Then have you made a wide impression quickly, You are the man they'll idolize. The mass can only be impressed by masses; Then each at last picks out his proper part. Give much, and then to each one something passes, And each one leaves the house with happy heart. Have you a piece, give it at once in pieces! Such a ragout your fame increases; It costs as little pains to play as to invent. But what is gained, if you a whole present? Your public picks it presently to pieces. _Poet_. You do not feel how mean a trade like that must be! In the true Artist's eyes how false and hollow! Our genteel botchers, well I see, Have given the maxims that you follow. _Manager_. Such charges pass me like the idle wind; A man who has right work in mind Must choose the instruments most fitting. Consider what soft wood you have for splitting, And keep in view for whom you write! If this one from _ennui_ seeks flight, That other comes full from the groaning table, Or, the worst case of all to cite, From reading journals is for thought unable. Vacant and giddy, all agog for wonder, As to a masquerade they wing their way; The ladies give themselves and all their precious plunder And without wages help us play. On your poetic heights what dream comes o'er you? What glads a crowded house? Behold Your patrons in array before you! One half are raw, the other cold. One, after this play, hopes to play at cards, One a wild night to spend beside his doxy chooses, Poor fools, why court ye the regards, For such a set, of the chaste muses? I tell you, give them more and ever more and more, And then your mark you'll hardly stray from ever; To mystify be your endeavor, To satisfy is labor sore.... What ails you? Are you pleased or pained? What notion---- _Poet_. Go to, and find thyself another slave! What! and the lofty birthright Nature gave, The noblest talent Heaven to man has lent, Thou bid'st the Poet fling to folly's ocean! How does he stir each deep emotion? How does he conquer every element? But by the tide of song that from his bosom springs, And draws into his heart all living things? When Nature's hand, in endless iteration, The thread across the whizzing spindle flings, When the complex, monotonous creation Jangles with all its million strings: Who, then, the long, dull series animating, Breaks into rhythmic march the soulless round? And, to the law of All each member consecrating, Bids one majestic harmony resound? Who bids the tempest rage with passion's power? The earnest soul with evening-redness glow? Who scatters vernal bud and summer flower Along the path where loved ones go? Who weaves each green leaf in the wind that trembles To form the wreath that merit's brow shall crown? Who makes Olympus fast? the gods assembles? The power of manhood in the Poet shown. _Merry Person_. Come, then, put forth these noble powers, And, Poet, let thy path of flowers Follow a love-adventure's winding ways. One comes and sees by chance, one burns, one stays, And feels the gradual, sweet entangling! The pleasure grows, then comes a sudden jangling, Then rapture, then distress an arrow plants, And ere one dreams of it, lo! _there_ is a romance. Give us a drama in this fashion! Plunge into human life's full sea of passion! Each lives it, few its meaning ever guessed, Touch where you will, 'tis full of interest. Bright shadows fleeting o'er a mirror, A spark of truth and clouds of error, By means like these a drink is brewed To cheer and edify the multitude. The fairest flower of the youth sit listening Before your play, and wait the revelation; Each melancholy heart, with soft eyes glistening, Draws sad, sweet nourishment from your creation; This passion now, now that is stirred, by turns, And each one sees what in his bosom burns. Open alike, as yet, to weeping and to laughter, They still admire the flights, they still enjoy the show; Him who is formed, can nothing suit thereafter; The yet unformed with thanks will ever glow. _Poet_. Ay, give me back the joyous hours, When I myself was ripening, too, When song, the fount, flung up its showers Of beauty ever fresh and new. When a soft haze the world was veiling, Each bud a miracle bespoke, And from their stems a thousand flowers I broke, Their fragrance through the vales exhaling. I nothing and yet all possessed, Yearning for truth and in illusion blest. Give me the freedom of that hour, The tear of joy, the pleasing pain, Of hate and love the thrilling power, Oh, give me back my youth again! _Merry Person_. Youth, my good friend, thou needest certainly When ambushed foes are on thee springing, When loveliest maidens witchingly Their white arms round thy neck are flinging, When the far garland meets thy glance, High on the race-ground's goal suspended, When after many a mazy dance In drink and song the night is ended. But with a free and graceful soul To strike the old familiar lyre, And to a self-appointed goal Sweep lightly o'er the trembling wire, There lies, old gentlemen, to-day Your task; fear not, no vulgar error blinds us. Age does not make us childish, as they say, But we are still true children when it finds us. _Manager_. Come, words enough you two have bandied, Now let us see some deeds at last; While you toss compliments full-handed, The time for useful work flies fast. Why talk of being in the humor? Who hesitates will never be. If you are poets (so says rumor) Now then command your poetry. You know full well our need and pleasure, We want strong drink in brimming measure; Brew at it now without delay! To-morrow will not do what is not done to-day. Let not a day be lost in dallying, But seize the possibility Right by the forelock, courage rallying, And forth with fearless spirit sallying,-- Once in the yoke and you are free. Upon our German boards, you know it, What any one would try, he may; Then stint me not, I beg, to-day, In scenery or machinery, Poet. With great and lesser heavenly lights make free, Spend starlight just as you desire; No want of water, rocks or fire Or birds or beasts to you shall be. So, in this narrow wooden house's bound, Stride through the whole creation's round, And with considerate swiftness wander From heaven, through this world, to the world down yonder. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. [THE LORD. THE HEAVENLY HOSTS _afterward_ MEPHISTOPHELES. _The three archangels_, RAPHAEL, GABRIEL, _and_ MICHAEL, _come forward_.] _Raphael_. The sun, in ancient wise, is sounding, With brother-spheres, in rival song; And, his appointed journey rounding, With thunderous movement rolls along. His look, new strength to angels lending, No creature fathom can for aye; The lofty works, past comprehending, Stand lordly, as on time's first day. _Gabriel_. And swift, with wondrous swiftness fleeting, The pomp of earth turns round and round, The glow of Eden alternating With shuddering midnight's gloom profound; Up o'er the rocks the foaming ocean Heaves from its old, primeval bed, And rocks and seas, with endless motion, On in the spheral sweep are sped. _Michael_. And tempests roar, glad warfare waging, From sea to land, from land to sea, And bind round all, amidst their raging, A chain of giant energy. There, lurid desolation, blazing, Foreruns the volleyed thunder's way: Yet, Lord, thy messengers[2] are praising The mild procession of thy day. _All Three_. The sight new strength to angels lendeth, For none thy being fathom may, The works, no angel comprehendeth, Stand lordly as on time's first day. _Mephistopheles_. Since, Lord, thou drawest near us once again, And how we do, dost graciously inquire, And to be pleased to see me once didst deign, I too among thy household venture nigher. Pardon, high words I cannot labor after, Though the whole court should look on me with scorn; My pathos certainly would stir thy laughter, Hadst thou not laughter long since quite forsworn. Of sun and worlds I've nought to tell worth mention, How men torment themselves takes my attention. The little God o' the world jogs on the same old way And is as singular as on the world's first day. A pity 'tis thou shouldst have given The fool, to make him worse, a gleam of light from heaven; He calls it reason, using it To be more beast than ever beast was yet. He seems to me, (your grace the word will pardon,) Like a long-legg'd grasshopper in the garden, Forever on the wing, and hops and sings The same old song, as in the grass he springs; Would he but stay there! no; he needs must muddle His prying nose in every puddle. _The Lord_. Hast nothing for our edification? Still thy old work of accusation? Will things on earth be never right for thee? _Mephistopheles_. No, Lord! I find them still as bad as bad can be. Poor souls! their miseries seem so much to please 'em, I scarce can find it in my heart to tease 'em. _The Lord_. Knowest thou Faust? _Mephistopheles_. The Doctor? _The Lord_. Ay, my servant! _Mephistopheles_. He! Forsooth! he serves you in a famous fashion; No earthly meat or drink can feed his passion; Its grasping greed no space can measure; Half-conscious and half-crazed, he finds no rest; The fairest stars of heaven must swell his treasure. Each highest joy of earth must yield its zest, Not all the world--the boundless azure-- Can fill the void within his craving breast. _The Lord_. He serves me somewhat darkly, now, I grant, Yet will he soon attain the light of reason. Sees not the gardener, in the green young plant, That bloom and fruit shall deck its coming season? _Mephistopheles_. What will you bet? You'll surely lose your wager! If you will give me leave henceforth, To lead him softly on, like an old stager. _The Lord_. So long as he shall live on earth, Do with him all that you desire. Man errs and staggers from his birth. _Mephistopheles_. Thank you; I never did aspire To have with dead folk much transaction. In full fresh cheeks I take the greatest satisfaction. A corpse will never find me in the house; I love to play as puss does with the mouse. _The Lord_. All right, I give thee full permission! Draw down this spirit from its source, And, canst thou catch him, to perdition Carry him with thee in thy course, But stand abashed, if thou must needs confess, That a good man, though passion blur his vision, Has of the right way still a consciousness. _Mephistopheles_. Good! but I'll make it a short story. About my wager I'm by no means sorry. And if I gain my end with glory Allow me to exult from a full breast. Dust shall he eat and that with zest, Like my old aunt, the snake, whose fame is hoary. _The Lord_. Well, go and come, and make thy trial; The like of thee I never yet did hate. Of all the spirits of denial The scamp is he I best can tolerate. Man is too prone, at best, to seek the way that's easy, He soon grows fond of unconditioned rest; And therefore such a comrade suits him best, Who spurs and works, true devil, always busy. But you, true sons of God, in growing measure, Enjoy rich beauty's living stores of pleasure! The Word[3] divine that lives and works for aye, Fold you in boundless love's embrace alluring, And what in floating vision glides away, That seize ye and make fast with thoughts enduring. [_Heaven closes, the archangels disperse._] _Mephistopheles. [Alone.]_ I like at times to exchange with him a word, And take care not to break with him. 'Tis civil In the old fellow[4] and so great a Lord To talk so kindly with the very devil. FAUST. _Night. In a narrow high-arched Gothic room_, FAUST _sitting uneasy at his desk_. _Faust_. Have now, alas! quite studied through Philosophy and Medicine, And Law, and ah! Theology, too, With hot desire the truth to win! And here, at last, I stand, poor fool! As wise as when I entered school; Am called Magister, Doctor, indeed,-- Ten livelong years cease not to lead Backward and forward, to and fro, My scholars by the nose--and lo! Just nothing, I see, is the sum of our learning, To the very core of my heart 'tis burning. 'Tis true I'm more clever than all the foplings, Doctors, Magisters, Authors, and Popelings; Am plagued by no scruple, nor doubt, nor cavil, Nor lingering fear of hell or devil-- What then? all pleasure is fled forever; To know one thing I vainly endeavor, There's nothing wherein one fellow-creature Could be mended or bettered with me for a teacher. And then, too, nor goods nor gold have I, Nor fame nor worldly dignity,-- A condition no dog could longer live in! And so to magic my soul I've given, If, haply, by spirits' mouth and might, Some mysteries may not be brought to light; That to teach, no longer may be my lot, With bitter sweat, what I need to be taught; That I may know what the world contains In its innermost heart and finer veins, See all its energies and seeds And deal no more in words but in deeds. O full, round Moon, didst thou but thine For the last time on this woe of mine! Thou whom so many a midnight I Have watched, at this desk, come up the sky: O'er books and papers, a dreary pile, Then, mournful friend! uprose thy smile! Oh that I might on the mountain-height, Walk in the noon of thy blessed light, Round mountain-caverns with spirits hover, Float in thy gleamings the meadows over, And freed from the fumes of a lore-crammed brain, Bathe in thy dew and be well again! Woe! and these walls still prison me? Dull, dismal hole! my curse on thee! Where heaven's own light, with its blessed beams, Through painted panes all sickly gleams! Hemmed in by these old book-piles tall, Which, gnawed by worms and deep in must, Rise to the roof against a wall Of smoke-stained paper, thick with dust; 'Mid glasses, boxes, where eye can see, Filled with old, obsolete instruments, Stuffed with old heirlooms of implements-- That is thy world! There's a world for thee! And still dost ask what stifles so The fluttering heart within thy breast? By what inexplicable woe The springs of life are all oppressed? Instead of living nature, where God made and planted men, his sons, Through smoke and mould, around thee stare Grim skeletons and dead men's bones. Up! Fly! Far out into the land! And this mysterious volume, see! By Nostradamus's[5] own hand, Is it not guide enough for thee? Then shalt thou thread the starry skies, And, taught by nature in her walks, The spirit's might shall o'er thee rise, As ghost to ghost familiar talks. Vain hope that mere dry sense should here Explain the holy signs to thee. I feel you, spirits, hovering near; Oh, if you hear me, answer me! [_He opens the book and beholds the sign of the Macrocosm.[_6]] Ha! as I gaze, what ecstasy is this, In one full tide through all my senses flowing! I feel a new-born life, a holy bliss Through nerves and veins mysteriously glowing. Was it a God who wrote each sign? Which, all my inner tumult stilling, And this poor heart with rapture filling, Reveals to me, by force divine, Great Nature's energies around and through me thrilling? Am I a God? It grows so bright to me! Each character on which my eye reposes Nature in act before my soul discloses. The sage's word was truth, at last I see: "The spirit-world, unbarred, is waiting; Thy sense is locked, thy heart is dead! Up, scholar, bathe, unhesitating, The earthly breast in morning-red!" [_He contemplates the sign._] How all one whole harmonious weaves, Each in the other works and lives! See heavenly powers ascending and descending, The golden buckets, one long line, extending! See them with bliss-exhaling pinions winging Their way from heaven through earth--their singing Harmonious through the universe is ringing! Majestic show! but ah! a show alone! Nature! where find I thee, immense, unknown? Where you, ye breasts? Ye founts all life sustaining, On which hang heaven and earth, and where Men's withered hearts their waste repair-- Ye gush, ye nurse, and I must sit complaining? [_He opens reluctantly the book and sees the sign of the earth-spirit._] How differently works on me this sign! Thou, spirit of the earth, art to me nearer; I feel my powers already higher, clearer, I glow already as with new-pressed wine, I feel the mood to brave life's ceaseless clashing, To bear its frowning woes, its raptures flashing, To mingle in the tempest's dashing, And not to tremble in the shipwreck's crashing; Clouds gather o'er my head-- Them moon conceals her light-- The lamp goes out! It smokes!--Red rays are darting, quivering Around my head--comes down A horror from the vaulted roof And seizes me! Spirit that I invoked, thou near me art, Unveil thyself! Ha! what a tearing in my heart! Upheaved like an ocean My senses toss with strange emotion! I feel my heart to thee entirely given! Thou must! and though the price were life--were heaven! [_He seizes the book and pronounces mysteriously the sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame darts out, the spirit appears in the flame._] _Spirit_. Who calls upon me? _Faust. [Turning away.]_ Horrid sight! _Spirit_. Long have I felt the mighty action, Upon my sphere, of thy attraction, And now-- _Faust_. Away, intolerable sprite! _Spirit_. Thou breath'st a panting supplication To hear my voice, my face to see; Thy mighty prayer prevails on me, I come!--what miserable agitation Seizes this demigod! Where is the cry of thought? Where is the breast? that in itself a world begot, And bore and cherished, that with joy did tremble And fondly dream us spirits to resemble. Where art thou, Faust? whose voice rang through my ear, Whose mighty yearning drew me from my sphere? Is this thing thou? that, blasted by my breath, Through all life's windings shuddereth, A shrinking, cringing, writhing worm! _Faust_. Thee, flame-born creature, shall I fear? 'Tis I, 'tis Faust, behold thy peer! _Spirit_. In life's tide currents, in action's storm, Up and down, like a wave, Like the wind I sweep! Cradle and grave-- A limitless deep--- An endless weaving To and fro, A restless heaving Of life and glow,-- So shape I, on Destiny's thundering loom, The Godhead's live garment, eternal in bloom. _Faust_. Spirit that sweep'st the world from end to end, How near, this hour, I feel myself to thee! _Spirit_. Thou'rt like the spirit thou canst comprehend, Not me! [_Vanishes._] _Faust_. [_Collapsing_.] Not thee? Whom then? I, image of the Godhead, And no peer for thee! [_A knocking_.] O Death! I know it!--'tis my Famulus-- Good-bye, ye dreams of bliss Elysian! Shame! that so many a glowing vision This dried-up sneak must scatter thus! [WAGNER, _in sleeping-gown and night-cap, a lamp in his hand._ FAUST _turns round with an annoyed look_.] _Wagner_. Excuse me! you're engaged in declamation; 'Twas a Greek tragedy no doubt you read? I in this art should like initiation, For nowadays it stands one well instead. I've often heard them boast, a preacher Might profit with a player for his teacher. _Faust_. Yes, when the preacher is a player, granted: As often happens in our modern ways. _Wagner_. Ah! when one with such love of study's haunted, And scarcely sees the world on holidays, And takes a spy-glass, as it were, to read it, How can one by persuasion hope to lead it? _Faust_. What you don't feel, you'll never catch by hunting, It must gush out spontaneous from the soul, And with a fresh delight enchanting The hearts of all that hear control. Sit there forever! Thaw your glue-pot,-- Blow up your ash-heap to a flame, and brew, With a dull fire, in your stew-pot, Of other men's leavings a ragout! Children and apes will gaze delighted, If their critiques can pleasure impart; But never a heart will be ignited, Comes not the spark from the speaker's heart. _Wagner_. Delivery makes the orator's success; There I'm still far behindhand, I confess. _Faust_. Seek honest gains, without pretence! Be not a cymbal-tinkling fool! Sound understanding and good sense Speak out with little art or rule; And when you've something earnest to utter, Why hunt for words in such a flutter? Yes, your discourses, that are so refined' In which humanity's poor shreds you frizzle, Are unrefreshing as the mist and wind That through the withered leaves of autumn whistle! _Wagner_. Ah God! well, art is long! And life is short and fleeting. What headaches have I felt and what heart-beating, When critical desire was strong. How hard it is the ways and means to master By which one gains each fountain-head! And ere one yet has half the journey sped, The poor fool dies--O sad disaster! _Faust_. Is parchment, then, the holy well-spring, thinkest, A draught from which thy thirst forever slakes? No quickening element thou drinkest, Till up from thine own soul the fountain breaks. _Wagner_. Excuse me! in these olden pages We catch the spirit of the by-gone ages, We see what wisest men before our day have thought, And to what glorious heights we their bequests have brought. _Faust_. O yes, we've reached the stars at last! My friend, it is to us,--the buried past,-- A book with seven seals protected; Your spirit of the times is, then, At bottom, your own spirit, gentlemen, In which the times are seen reflected. And often such a mess that none can bear it; At the first sight of it they run away. A dust-bin and a lumber-garret, At most a mock-heroic play[8] With fine, pragmatic maxims teeming, The mouths of puppets well-beseeming! _Wagner_. But then the world! the heart and mind of man! To know of these who would not pay attention? _Faust_. To know them, yes, as weaklings can! Who dares the child's true name outright to mention? The few who any thing thereof have learned, Who out of their heart's fulness needs must gabble, And show their thoughts and feelings to the rabble, Have evermore been crucified and burned. I pray you, friend, 'tis wearing into night, Let us adjourn here, for the present. _Wagner_. I had been glad to stay till morning light, This learned talk with you has been so pleasant, But the first day of Easter comes to-morrow. And then an hour or two I'll borrow. With zeal have I applied myself to learning, True, I know much, yet to know all am burning. [_Exit_.] _Faust_. [_Alone_.] See how in _his_ head only, hope still lingers, Who evermore to empty rubbish clings, With greedy hand grubs after precious things, And leaps for joy when some poor worm he fingers! That such a human voice should dare intrude, Where all was full of ghostly tones and features! Yet ah! this once, my gratitude Is due to thee, most wretched of earth's creatures. Thou snatchedst me from the despairing state In which my senses, well nigh crazed, were sunken. The apparition was so giant-great, That to a very dwarf my soul had shrunken. I, godlike, who in fancy saw but now Eternal truth's fair glass in wondrous nearness, Rejoiced in heavenly radiance and clearness, Leaving the earthly man below; I, more than cherub, whose free force Dreamed, through the veins of nature penetrating, To taste the life of Gods, like them creating, Behold me this presumption expiating! A word of thunder sweeps me from my course. Myself with thee no longer dare I measure; Had I the power to draw thee down at pleasure; To hold thee here I still had not the force. Oh, in that blest, ecstatic hour, I felt myself so small, so great; Thou drovest me with cruel power Back upon man's uncertain fate What shall I do? what slum, thus lonely? That impulse must I, then, obey? Alas! our very deeds, and not our sufferings only, How do they hem and choke life's way! To all the mind conceives of great and glorious A strange and baser mixture still adheres; Striving for earthly good are we victorious? A dream and cheat the better part appears. The feelings that could once such noble life inspire Are quenched and trampled out in passion's mire. Where Fantasy, erewhile, with daring flight Out to the infinite her wings expanded, A little space can now suffice her quite, When hope on hope time's gulf has wrecked and stranded. Care builds her nest far down the heart's recesses, There broods o'er dark, untold distresses, Restless she sits, and scares thy joy and peace away; She puts on some new mask with each new day, Herself as house and home, as wife and child presenting, As fire and water, bane and blade; What never hits makes thee afraid, And what is never lost she keeps thee still lamenting. Not like the Gods am I! Too deep that truth is thrust! But like the worm, that wriggles through the dust; Who, as along the dust for food he feels, Is crushed and buried by the traveller's heels. Is it not dust that makes this lofty wall Groan with its hundred shelves and cases; The rubbish and the thousand trifles all That crowd these dark, moth-peopled places? Here shall my craving heart find rest? Must I perchance a thousand books turn over, To find that men are everywhere distrest, And here and there one happy one discover? Why grin'st thou down upon me, hollow skull? But that thy brain, like mine, once trembling, hoping, Sought the light day, yet ever sorrowful, Burned for the truth in vain, in twilight groping? Ye, instruments, of course, are mocking me; Its wheels, cogs, bands, and barrels each one praises. I waited at the door; you were the key; Your ward is nicely turned, and yet no bolt it raises. Unlifted in the broadest day, Doth Nature's veil from prying eyes defend her, And what (he chooses not before thee to display, Not all thy screws and levers can force her to surrender. Old trumpery! not that I e'er used thee, but Because my father used thee, hang'st thou o'er me, Old scroll! thou hast been stained with smoke and smut Since, on this desk, the lamp first dimly gleamed before me. Better have squandered, far, I now can clearly see, My little all, than melt beneath it, in this Tophet! That which thy fathers have bequeathed to thee, Earn and become possessor of it! What profits not a weary load will be; What it brings forth alone can yield the moment profit. Why do I gaze as if a spell had bound me Up yonder? Is that flask a magnet to the eyes? What lovely light, so sudden, blooms around me? As when in nightly woods we hail the full-moon-rise. I greet thee, rarest phial, precious potion! As now I take thee down with deep devotion, In thee I venerate man's wit and art. Quintessence of all soporific flowers, Extract of all the finest deadly powers, Thy favor to thy master now impart! I look on thee, the sight my pain appeases, I handle thee, the strife of longing ceases, The flood-tide of the spirit ebbs away. Far out to sea I'm drawn, sweet voices listening, The glassy waters at my feet are glistening, To new shores beckons me a new-born day. A fiery chariot floats, on airy pinions, To where I sit! Willing, it beareth me, On a new path, through ether's blue dominions, To untried spheres of pure activity. This lofty life, this bliss elysian, Worm that thou waft erewhile, deservest thou? Ay, on this earthly sun, this charming vision, Turn thy back resolutely now! Boldly draw near and rend the gates asunder, By which each cowering mortal gladly steals. Now is the time to show by deeds of wonder That manly greatness not to godlike glory yields; Before that gloomy pit to stand, unfearing, Where Fantasy self-damned in its own torment lies, Still onward to that pass-way steering, Around whose narrow mouth hell-flames forever rise; Calmly to dare the step, serene, unshrinking, Though into nothingness the hour should see thee sinking. Now, then, come down from thy old case, I bid thee, Where thou, forgotten, many a year hast hid thee, Into thy master's hand, pure, crystal glass! The joy-feasts of the fathers thou hast brightened, The hearts of gravest guests were lightened, When, pledged, from hand to hand they saw thee pass. Thy sides, with many a curious type bedight, Which each, as with one draught he quaffed the liquor Must read in rhyme from off the wondrous beaker, Remind me, ah! of many a youthful night. I shall not hand thee now to any neighbor, Not now to show my wit upon thy carvings labor; Here is a juice of quick-intoxicating might. The rich brown flood adown thy sides is streaming, With my own choice ingredients teeming; Be this last draught, as morning now is gleaming, Drained as a lofty pledge to greet the festal light! [_He puts the goblet to his lips_. _Ringing of bells and choral song_. _Chorus of Angels_. Christ hath arisen! Joy to humanity! No more shall vanity, Death and inanity Hold thee in prison! _Faust_. What hum of music, what a radiant tone, Thrills through me, from my lips the goblet stealing! Ye murmuring bells, already make ye known The Easter morn's first hour, with solemn pealing? Sing you, ye choirs, e'en now, the glad, consoling song, That once, from angel-lips, through gloom sepulchral rung, A new immortal covenant sealing? _Chorus of Women_. Spices we carried, Laid them upon his breast; Tenderly buried Him whom we loved the best; Cleanly to bind him Took we the fondest care, Ah! and we find him Now no more there. _Chorus of Angels_. Christ hath ascended! Reign in benignity! Pain and indignity, Scorn and malignity, _Their_ work have ended. _Faust_. Why seek ye me in dust, forlorn, Ye heavenly tones, with soft enchanting? Go, greet pure-hearted men this holy morn! Your message well I hear, but faith to me is wanting; Wonder, its dearest child, of Faith is born. To yonder spheres I dare no more aspire, Whence the sweet tidings downward float; And yet, from childhood heard, the old, familiar note Calls back e'en now to life my warm desire. Ah! once how sweetly fell on me the kiss Of heavenly love in the still Sabbath stealing! Prophetically rang the bells with solemn pealing; A prayer was then the ecstasy of bliss; A blessed and mysterious yearning Drew me to roam through meadows, woods, and skies; And, midst a thousand tear-drops burning, I felt a world within me rise That strain, oh, how it speaks youth's gleesome plays and feelings, Joys of spring-festivals long past; Remembrance holds me now, with childhood's fond appealings, Back from the fatal step, the last. Sound on, ye heavenly strains, that bliss restore me! Tears gush, once more the spell of earth is o'er me _Chorus of Disciples_. Has the grave's lowly one Risen victorious? Sits he, God's Holy One, High-throned and glorious? He, in this blest new birth, Rapture creative knows;[9] Ah! on the breast of earth Taste we still nature's woes. Left here to languish Lone in a world like this, Fills us with anguish Master, thy bliss! _Chorus of Angels_. Christ has arisen Out of corruption's gloom. Break from your prison, Burst every tomb! Livingly owning him, Lovingly throning him, Feasting fraternally, Praying diurnally, Bearing his messages, Sharing his promises, Find ye your master near, Find ye him here![10] BEFORE THE GATE. _Pedestrians of all descriptions stroll forth_. _Mechanics' Apprentices_. Where are you going to carouse? _Others_. We're all going out to the Hunter's House. _The First_. We're going, ourselves, out to the Mill-House, brothers. _An Apprentice_. The Fountain-House I rather recommend. _Second_. 'Tis not a pleasant road, my friend. _The second group_. What will you do, then? _A Third_. I go with the others. _Fourth_. Come up to Burgdorf, there you're sure to find good cheer, The handsomest of girls and best of beer, And rows, too, of the very first water. _Fifth_. You monstrous madcap, does your skin Itch for the third time to try that inn? I've had enough for _my_ taste in that quarter. _Servant-girl_. No! I'm going back again to town for one. _Others_. Under those poplars we are sure to meet him. _First Girl_. But that for me is no great fun; For you are always sure to get him, He never dances with any but you. Great good to me your luck will do! _Others_. He's not alone, I heard him say, The curly-head would be with him to-day. _Scholar_. Stars! how the buxom wenches stride there! Quick, brother! we must fasten alongside there. Strong beer, good smart tobacco, and the waist Of a right handsome gall, well rigg'd, now that's my taste. _Citizen's Daughter_. Do see those fine, young fellows yonder! 'Tis, I declare, a great disgrace; When they might have the very best, I wonder, After these galls they needs must race! _Second scholar_ [_to the first_]. Stop! not so fast! there come two more behind, My eyes! but ain't they dressed up neatly? One is my neighbor, or I'm blind; I love the girl, she looks so sweetly. Alone all quietly they go, You'll find they'll take us, by and bye, in tow. _First_. No, brother! I don't like these starched up ways. Make haste! before the game slips through our fingers. The hand that swings the broom o' Saturdays On Sundays round thy neck most sweetly lingers. _Citizen_. No, I don't like at all this new-made burgomaster! His insolence grows daily ever faster. No good from him the town will get! Will things grow better with him? Never! We're under more constraint than ever, And pay more tax than ever yet. _Beggar_. [_Sings_.] Good gentlemen, and you, fair ladies, With such red cheeks and handsome dress, Think what my melancholy trade is, And see and pity my distress! Help the poor harper, sisters, brothers! Who loves to give, alone is gay. This day, a holiday to others, Make it for me a harvest day. _Another citizen_. Sundays and holidays, I like, of all things, a good prattle Of war and fighting, and the whole array, When back in Turkey, far away, The peoples give each other battle. One stands before the window, drinks his glass, And sees the ships with flags glide slowly down the river; Comes home at night, when out of sight they pass, And sings with joy, "Oh, peace forever!" _Third citizen_. So I say, neighbor! let them have their way, Crack skulls and in their crazy riot Turn all things upside down they may, But leave us here in peace and quiet. _Old Woman_ [_to the citizen's daughter_]. Heyday, brave prinking this! the fine young blood! Who is not smitten that has met you?-- But not so proud! All very good! And what you want I'll promise soon to get you. _Citizen's Daughter_. Come, Agatha! I dread in public sight To prattle with such hags; don't stay, O, Luddy! 'Tis true she showed me, on St. Andrew's night, My future sweetheart in the body. _The other_. She showed me mine, too, in a glass, Right soldierlike, with daring comrades round him. I look all round, I study all that pass, But to this hour I have not found him. _Soldiers_. Castles with lowering Bulwarks and towers, Maidens with towering Passions and powers, Both shall be ours! Daring the venture, Glorious the pay! When the brass trumpet Summons us loudly, Joy-ward or death-ward, On we march proudly. That is a storming! Life in its splendor! Castles and maidens Both must surrender. Daring the venture, Glorious the pay. There go the soldiers Marching away! FAUST _and_ WAGNER. _Faust_. Spring's warm look has unfettered the fountains, Brooks go tinkling with silvery feet; Hope's bright blossoms the valley greet; Weakly and sickly up the rough mountains Pale old Winter has made his retreat. Thence he launches, in sheer despite, Sleet and hail in impotent showers, O'er the green lawn as he takes his flight; But the sun will suffer no white, Everywhere waking the formative powers, Living colors he yearns to spread; Yet, as he finds it too early for flowers, Gayly dressed people he takes instead. Look from this height whereon we find us Back to the town we have left behind us, Where from the dark and narrow door Forth a motley multitude pour. They sun themselves gladly and all are gay, They celebrate Christ's resurrection to-day. For have not they themselves arisen? From smoky huts and hovels and stables, From labor's bonds and traffic's prison, From the confinement of roofs and gables, From many a cramping street and alley, From churches full of the old world's night, All have come out to the day's broad light. See, only see! how the masses sally Streaming and swarming through gardens and fields How the broad stream that bathes the valley Is everywhere cut with pleasure boats' keels, And that last skiff, so heavily laden, Almost to sinking, puts off in the stream; Ribbons and jewels of youngster and maiden From the far paths of the mountain gleam. How it hums o'er the fields and clangs from the steeple! This is the real heaven of the people, Both great and little are merry and gay, I am a man, too, I can be, to-day. _Wagner_. With you, Sir Doctor, to go out walking Is at all times honor and gain enough; But to trust myself here alone would be shocking, For I am a foe to all that is rough. Fiddling and bowling and screams and laughter To me are the hatefullest noises on earth; They yell as if Satan himself were after, And call it music and call it mirth. [_Peasants (under the linden). Dance and song._] The shepherd prinked him for the dance, With jacket gay and spangle's glance, And all his finest quiddle. And round the linden lass and lad They wheeled and whirled and danced like mad. Huzza! huzza! Huzza! Ha, ha, ha! And tweedle-dee went the fiddle. And in he bounded through the whirl, And with his elbow punched a girl, Heigh diddle, diddle! The buxom wench she turned round quick, "Now that I call a scurvy trick!" Huzza! huzza! Huzza! ha, ha, ha! Tweedle-dee, tweedle-dee went the fiddle. And petticoats and coat-tails flew As up and down they went, and through, Across and down the middle. They all grew red, they all grew warm, And rested, panting, arm in arm, Huzza! huzza! Ta-ra-la! Tweedle-dee went the fiddle! "And don't be so familiar there! How many a one, with speeches fair, His trusting maid will diddle!" But still he flattered her aside-- And from the linden sounded wide: Huzza! huzza! Huzza! huzza! ha! ha! ha! And tweedle-dee the fiddle. _Old Peasant._ Sir Doctor, this is kind of you, That with us here you deign to talk, And through the crowd of folk to-day A man so highly larned, walk. So take the fairest pitcher here, Which we with freshest drink have filled, I pledge it to you, praying aloud That, while your thirst thereby is stilled, So many days as the drops it contains May fill out the life that to you remains. _Faust._ I take the quickening draught and call For heaven's best blessing on one and all. [_The people form a circle round him._] _Old Peasant._ Your presence with us, this glad day, We take it very kind, indeed! In truth we've found you long ere this In evil days a friend in need! Full many a one stands living here, Whom, at death's door already laid, Your father snatched from fever's rage, When, by his skill, the plague he stayed. You, a young man, we daily saw Go with him to the pest-house then, And many a corpse was carried forth, But you came out alive again. With a charmed life you passed before us, Helped by the Helper watching o'er us. _All._ The well-tried man, and may he live, Long years a helping hand to give! _Faust._ Bow down to Him on high who sends His heavenly help and helping friends! [_He goes on with_ WAGNER.] _Wagner._ What feelings, O great man, thy heart must swell Thus to receive a people's veneration! O worthy all congratulation, Whose gifts to such advantage tell. The father to his son shows thee with exultation, All run and crowd and ask, the circle closer draws, The fiddle stops, the dancers pause, Thou goest--the lines fall back for thee. They fling their gay-decked caps on high; A little more and they would bow the knee As if the blessed Host came by. _Faust._ A few steps further on, until we reach that stone; There will we rest us from our wandering. How oft in prayer and penance there alone, Fasting, I sate, on holy mysteries pondering. There, rich in hope, in faith still firm, I've wept, sighed, wrung my hands and striven This plague's removal to extort (poor worm!) From the almighty Lord of Heaven. The crowd's applause has now a scornful tone; O couldst thou hear my conscience tell its story, How little either sire or son Has done to merit such a glory! My father was a worthy man, confused And darkened with his narrow lucubrations, Who with a whimsical, though well-meant patience, On Nature's holy circles mused. Shut up in his black laboratory, Experimenting without end, 'Midst his adepts, till he grew hoary, He sought the opposing powers to blend. Thus, a red lion,[11] a bold suitor, married The silver lily, in the lukewarm bath, And, from one bride-bed to another harried, The two were seen to fly before the flaming wrath. If then, with colors gay and splendid, The glass the youthful queen revealed, Here was the physic, death the patients' sufferings ended, And no one asked, who then was healed? Thus, with electuaries so satanic, Worse than the plague with all its panic, We rioted through hill and vale; Myself, with my own hands, the drug to thousands giving, They passed away, and I am living To hear men's thanks the murderers hail! _Wagner._ Forbear! far other name that service merits! Can a brave man do more or less Than with nice conscientiousness To exercise the calling he inherits? If thou, as youth, thy father honorest, To learn from him thou wilt desire; If thou, as man, men with new light hast blest, Then may thy son to loftier heights aspire. _Faust._ O blest! who hopes to find repose, Up from this mighty sea of error diving! Man cannot use what he already knows, To use the unknown ever striving. But let not such dark thoughts a shadow throw O'er the bright joy this hour inspires! See how the setting sun, with ruddy glow, The green-embosomed hamlet fires! He sinks and fades, the day is lived and gone, He hastens forth new scenes of life to waken. O for a wing to lift and bear me on, And on, to where his last rays beckon! Then should I see the world's calm breast In everlasting sunset glowing, The summits all on fire, each valley steeped in rest, The silver brook to golden rivers flowing. No savage mountain climbing to the skies Should stay the godlike course with wild abysses; And now the sea, with sheltering, warm recesses Spreads out before the astonished eyes. At last it seems as if the God were sinking; But a new impulse fires the mind, Onward I speed, his endless glory drinking, The day before me and the night behind, The heavens above my head and under me the ocean. A lovely dream,--meanwhile he's gone from sight. Ah! sure, no earthly wing, in swiftest flight, May with the spirit's wings hold equal motion. Yet has each soul an inborn feeling Impelling it to mount and soar away, When, lost in heaven's blue depths, the lark is pealing High overhead her airy lay; When o'er the mountain pine's black shadow, With outspread wing the eagle sweeps, And, steering on o'er lake and meadow, The crane his homeward journey keeps. _Wagner._ I've had myself full many a wayward hour, But never yet felt such a passion's power. One soon grows tired of field and wood and brook, I envy not the fowl of heaven his pinions. Far nobler joy to soar through thought's dominions From page to page, from book to book! Ah! winter nights, so dear to mind and soul! Warm, blissful life through all the limbs is thrilling, And when thy hands unfold a genuine ancient scroll, It seems as if all heaven the room were filling. _Faust_. One passion only has thy heart possessed; The other, friend, O, learn it never! Two souls, alas! are lodged in my wild breast, Which evermore opposing ways endeavor, The one lives only on the joys of time, Still to the world with clamp-like organs clinging; The other leaves this earthly dust and slime, To fields of sainted sires up-springing. O, are there spirits in the air, That empire hold 'twixt earth's and heaven's dominions, Down from your realm of golden haze repair, Waft me to new, rich life, upon your rosy pinions! Ay! were a magic mantle only mine, To soar o'er earth's wide wildernesses, I would not sell it for the costliest dresses, Not for a royal robe the gift resign. _Wagner_. O, call them not, the well known powers of air, That swarm through all the middle kingdom, weaving Their fairy webs, with many a fatal snare The feeble race of men deceiving. First, the sharp spirit-tooth, from out the North, And arrowy tongues and fangs come thickly flying; Then from the East they greedily dart forth, Sucking thy lungs, thy life-juice drying; If from the South they come with fever thirst, Upon thy head noon's fiery splendors heaping; The Westwind brings a swarm, refreshing first, Then all thy world with thee in stupor steeping. They listen gladly, aye on mischief bent, Gladly draw near, each weak point to espy, They make believe that they from heaven are sent, Whispering like angels, while they lie. But let us go! The earth looks gray, my friend, The air grows cool, the mists ascend! At night we learn our homes to prize.-- Why dost thou stop and stare with all thy eyes? What can so chain thy sight there, in the gloaming? _Faust_. Seest thou that black dog through stalks and stubble roaming? _Wagner_. I saw him some time since, he seemed not strange to me. _Faust_. Look sharply! What dost take the beast to be? _Wagner_. For some poor poodle who has lost his master, And, dog-like, scents him o'er the ground. _Faust_. Markst thou how, ever nearer, ever faster, Towards us his spiral track wheels round and round? And if my senses suffer no confusion, Behind him trails a fiery glare. _Wagner_. 'Tis probably an optical illusion; I still see only a black poodle there. _Faust_. He seems to me as he were tracing slyly His magic rings our feet at last to snare. _Wagner_. To me he seems to dart around our steps so shyly, As if he said: is one of them my master there? _Faust_. The circle narrows, he is near! _Wagner_. Thou seest! a dog we have, no spectre, here! He growls and stops, crawls on his belly, too, And wags his tail,--as all dogs do. _Faust_. Come here, sir! come, our comrade be! _Wagner_. He has a poodle's drollery. Stand still, and he, too, waits to see; Speak to him, and he jumps on thee; Lose something, drop thy cane or sling it Into the stream, he'll run and bring it. _Faust_. I think you're right; I trace no spirit here, 'Tis all the fruit of training, that is clear. _Wagner_. A well-trained dog is a great treasure, Wise men in such will oft take pleasure. And he deserves your favor and a collar, He, of the students the accomplished scholar. [_They go in through the town gate._] STUDY-CHAMBER. _Enter_ FAUST _with the_ POODLE. I leave behind me field and meadow Veiled in the dusk of holy night, Whose ominous and awful shadow Awakes the better soul to light. To sleep are lulled the wild desires, The hand of passion lies at rest; The love of man the bosom fires, The love of God stirs up the breast. Be quiet, poodle! what worrisome fiend hath possest thee, Nosing and snuffling so round the door? Go behind the stove there and rest thee, There's my best pillow--what wouldst thou more? As, out on the mountain-paths, frisking and leaping, Thou, to amuse us, hast done thy best, So now in return lie still in my keeping, A quiet, contented, and welcome guest. When, in our narrow chamber, nightly, The friendly lamp begins to burn, Then in the bosom thought beams brightly, Homeward the heart will then return. Reason once more bids passion ponder, Hope blooms again and smiles on man; Back to life's rills he yearns to wander, Ah! to the source where life began. Stop growling, poodle! In the music Elysian That laps my soul at this holy hour, These bestial noises have jarring power. We know that men will treat with derision Whatever they cannot understand, At goodness and truth and beauty's vision Will shut their eyes and murmur and howl at it; And must the dog, too, snarl and growl at it? But ah, with the best will, I feel already, No peace will well up in me, clear and steady. But why must hope so soon deceive us, And the dried-up stream in fever leave us? For in this I have had a full probation. And yet for this want a supply is provided, To a higher than earth the soul is guided, We are ready and yearn for revelation: And where are its light and warmth so blent As here in the New Testament? I feel, this moment, a mighty yearning To expound for once the ground text of all, The venerable original Into my own loved German honestly turning. [_He opens the volume, and applies himself to the task_.] "In the beginning was the _Word_." I read. But here I stick! Who helps me to proceed? The _Word_--so high I cannot--dare not, rate it, I must, then, otherwise translate it, If by the spirit I am rightly taught. It reads: "In the beginning was the _thought_." But study well this first line's lesson, Nor let thy pen to error overhasten! Is it the _thought_ does all from time's first hour? "In the beginning," read then, "was the _power_." Yet even while I write it down, my finger Is checked, a voice forbids me there to linger. The spirit helps! At once I dare to read And write: "In the beginning was the _deed_." If I with thee must share my chamber, Poodle, now, remember, No more howling, No more growling! I had as lief a bull should bellow, As have for a chum such a noisy fellow. Stop that yell, now, One of us must quit this cell now! 'Tis hard to retract hospitality, But the door is open, thy way is free. But what ails the creature? Is this in the course of nature? Is it real? or one of Fancy's shows? How long and broad my poodle grows! He rises from the ground; That is no longer the form of a hound! Heaven avert the curse from us! He looks like a hippopotamus, With his fiery eyes and the terrible white Of his grinning teeth! oh what a fright Have I brought with me into the house! Ah now, No mystery art thou! Methinks for such half hellish brood The key of Solomon were good. _Spirits_ [_in the passage_]. Softly! a fellow is caught there! Keep back, all of you, follow him not there! Like the fox in the trap, Mourns the old hell-lynx his mishap. But give ye good heed! This way hover, that way hover, Over and over, And he shall right soon be freed. Help can you give him, O do not leave him! Many good turns he's done us, Many a fortune won us. _Faust_. First, to encounter the creature By the spell of the Four, says the teacher: Salamander shall glisten,[12] Undina lapse lightly, Sylph vanish brightly, Kobold quick listen. He to whom Nature Shows not, as teacher, Every force And secret source, Over the spirits No power inherits. Vanish in glowing Flame, Salamander! Inward, spirally flowing, Gurgle, Undine! Gleam in meteoric splendor, Airy Queen! Thy homely help render, Incubus! Incubus! Forth and end the charm for us! No kingdom of Nature Resides in the creature. He lies there grinning--'tis clear, my charm Has done the monster no mite of harm. I'll try, for thy curing, Stronger adjuring. Art thou a jail-bird, A runaway hell-bird? This sign,[13] then--adore it! They tremble before it All through the dark dwelling. His hair is bristling--his body swelling. Reprobate creature! Canst read his nature? The Uncreated, Ineffably Holy, With Deity mated, Sin's victim lowly? Driven behind the stove by my spells, Like an elephant he swells; He fills the whole room, so huge he's grown, He waxes shadowy faster and faster. Rise not up to the ceiling--down! Lay thyself at the feet of thy master! Thou seest, there's reason to dread my ire. I'll scorch thee with the holy fire! Wait not for the sight Of the thrice-glowing light! Wait not to feel the might Of the potentest spell in all my treasure! MEPHISTOPHELES. [_As the mist sinks, steps forth from behind the stove, dressed as a travelling scholasticus_.] Why all this noise? What is your worship's pleasure? _Faust_. This was the poodle's essence then! A travelling clark? Ha! ha! The casus is too funny. _Mephistopheles_. I bow to the most learned among men! 'Faith you did sweat me without ceremony. _Faust_. What is thy name? _Mephistopheles_. The question seems too small For one who holds the _word_ so very cheaply, Who, far removed from shadows all, For substances alone seeks deeply. _Faust_. With gentlemen like him in my presence, The name is apt to express the essence, Especially if, when you inquire, You find it God of flies,[14] Destroyer, Slanderer, Liar. Well now, who art thou then? _Mephistopheles_. A portion of that power, Which wills the bad and works the good at every hour. _Faust_. Beneath thy riddle-word what meaning lies? _Mephistopheles_. I am the spirit that denies! And justly so; for all that time creates, He does well who annihilates! Better, it ne'er had had beginning; And so, then, all that you call sinning, Destruction,--all you pronounce ill-meant,-- Is my original element. _Faust_. Thou call'st thyself a part, yet lookst complete to me. _Mephistopheles_. I speak the modest truth to thee. A world of folly in one little soul, _Man_ loves to think himself a whole; Part of the part am I, which once was all, the Gloom That brought forth Light itself from out her mighty womb, The upstart proud, that now with mother Night Disputes her ancient rank and space and right, Yet never shall prevail, since, do whate'er he will, He cleaves, a slave, to bodies still; From bodies flows, makes bodies fair to sight; A body in his course can check him, His doom, I therefore hope, will soon o'ertake him, With bodies merged in nothingness and night. _Faust_. Ah, now I see thy high vocation! In gross thou canst not harm creation, And so in small hast now begun. _Mephistopheles_. And, truth to tell, e'en here, not much have done. That which at nothing the gauntlet has hurled, This, what's its name? this clumsy world, So far as I have undertaken, I have to own, remains unshaken By wave, storm, earthquake, fiery brand. Calm, after all, remain both sea and land. And the damn'd living fluff, of man and beast the brood, It laughs to scorn my utmost power. I've buried myriads by the hour, And still there circulates each hour a new, fresh blood. It were enough to drive one to distraction! Earth, water, air, in constant action, Through moist and dry, through warm and cold, Going forth in endless germination! Had I not claimed of fire a reservation, Not one thing I alone should hold. _Faust_. Thus, with the ever-working power Of good dost thou in strife persist, And in vain malice, to this hour, Clenchest thy cold and devilish fist! Go try some other occupation, Singular son of Chaos, thou! _Mephistopheles_. We'll give the thing consideration, When next we meet again! But now Might I for once, with leave retire? _Faust_. Why thou shouldst ask I do not see. Now that I know thee, when desire Shall prompt thee, freely visit me. Window and door give free admission. At least there's left the chimney flue. _Mephistopheles_. Let me confess there's one small prohibition Lies on thy threshold, 'gainst my walking through, The wizard-foot--[15] _Faust_. Does that delay thee? The Pentagram disturbs thee? Now, Come tell me, son of hell, I pray thee, If that spell-binds thee, then how enteredst thou? _Thou_ shouldst proceed more circumspectly! _Mephistopheles_. Mark well! the figure is not drawn correctly; One of the angles, 'tis the outer one, Is somewhat open, dost perceive it? _Faust_. That was a lucky hit, believe it! And I have caught thee then? Well done! 'Twas wholly chance--I'm quite astounded! _Mephistopheles_. The _poodle_ took no heed, as through the door he bounded; The case looks differently now; The _devil_ can leave the house no-how. _Faust_. The window offers free emission. _Mephistopheles_. Devils and ghosts are bound by this condition: The way they entered in, they must come out. Allow In the first clause we're free, yet not so in the second. _Faust_. In hell itself, then, laws are reckoned? Now that I like; so then, one may, in fact, Conclude a binding compact with you gentry? _Mephistopheles_. Whatever promise on our books finds entry, We strictly carry into act. But hereby hangs a grave condition, Of this we'll talk when next we meet; But for the present I entreat Most urgently your kind dismission. _Faust_. Do stay but just one moment longer, then, Tell me good news and I'll release thee. _Mephistopheles_. Let me go now! I'll soon come back again, Then may'st thou ask whate'er shall please thee. _Faust_. I laid no snare for thee, old chap! Thou shouldst have watched and saved thy bacon. Who has the devil in his trap Must hold him fast, next time he'll not so soon be taken. _Mephistopheles_. Well, if it please thee, I'm content to stay For company, on one condition, That I, for thy amusement, may To exercise my arts have free permission. _Faust_. I gladly grant it, if they be Not disagreeable to me. _Mephistopheles_. Thy senses, friend, in this one hour Shall grasp the world with clearer power Than in a year's monotony. The songs the tender spirits sing thee, The lovely images they bring thee Are not an idle magic play. Thou shalt enjoy the daintiest savor, Then feast thy taste on richest flavor, Then thy charmed heart shall melt away. Come, all are here, and all have been Well trained and practised, now begin! _Spirits_. Vanish, ye gloomy Vaulted abysses! Tenderer, clearer, Friendlier, nearer, Ether, look through! O that the darkling Cloud-piles were riven! Starlight is sparkling, Purer is heaven, Holier sunshine Softens the blue. Graces, adorning Sons of the morning-- Shadowy wavings-- Float along over; Yearnings and cravings After them hover. Garments ethereal, Tresses aerial, Float o'er the flowers, Float o'er the bowers, Where, with deep feeling, Thoughtful and tender, Lovers, embracing, Life-vows are sealing. Bowers on bowers! Graceful and slender Vines interlacing! Purple and blushing, Under the crushing Wine-presses gushing, Grape-blood, o'erflowing, Down over gleaming Precious stones streaming, Leaves the bright glowing Tops of the mountains, Leaves the red fountains, Widening and rushing, Till it encloses Green hills all flushing, Laden with roses. Happy ones, swarming, Ply their swift pinions, Glide through the charming Airy dominions, Sunward still fleering, Onward, where peering Far o'er the ocean, Islets are dancing With an entrancing, Magical motion; Hear them, in chorus, Singing high o'er us; Over the meadows Flit the bright shadows; Glad eyes are glancing, Tiny feet dancing. Up the high ridges Some of them clamber, Others are skimming Sky-lakes of amber, Others are swimming Over the ocean;-- All are in motion, Life-ward all yearning, Longingly turning To the far-burning Star-light of bliss. _Mephistopheles_. He sleeps! Ye airy, tender youths, your numbers Have sung him into sweetest slumbers! You put me greatly in your debt by this. Thou art not yet the man that shall hold fast the devil! Still cheat his senses with your magic revel, Drown him in dreams of endless youth; But this charm-mountain on the sill to level, I need, O rat, thy pointed tooth! Nor need I conjure long, they're near me, E'en now comes scampering one, who presently will hear me. The sovereign lord of rats and mice, Of flies and frogs and bugs and lice, Commands thee to come forth this hour, And gnaw this threshold with great power, As he with oil the same shall smear-- Ha! with a skip e'en now thou'rt here! But brisk to work! The point by which I'm cowered, Is on the ledge, the farthest forward. Yet one more bite, the deed is done.-- Now, Faust, until we meet again, dream on! _Faust_. [_Waking_.] Again has witchcraft triumphed o'er me? Was it a ghostly show, so soon withdrawn? I dream, the devil stands himself before me--wake, to find a poodle gone! STUDY-CHAMBER. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust_. A knock? Walk in! Who comes again to tease me? _Mephistopheles_. 'Tis I. _Faust_. Come in! _Mephistopheles_. Must say it thrice, to please me. _Faust_. Come in then! _Mephistopheles_. That I like to hear. We shall, I hope, bear with each other; For to dispel thy crotchets, brother, As a young lord, I now appear, In scarlet dress, trimmed with gold lacing, A stiff silk cloak with stylish facing, A tall cock's feather in my hat, A long, sharp rapier to defend me, And I advise thee, short and flat, In the same costume to attend me; If thou wouldst, unembarrassed, see What sort of thing this life may be. _Faust_. In every dress I well may feel the sore Of this low earth-life's melancholy. I am too old to live for folly, Too young, to wish for nothing more. Am I content with all creation? Renounce! renounce! Renunciation-- Such is the everlasting song That in the ears of all men rings, Which every hour, our whole life long, With brazen accents hoarsely sings. With terror I behold each morning's light, With bitter tears my eyes are filling, To see the day that shall not in its flight Fulfil for me one wish, not one, but killing Every presentiment of zest With wayward skepticism, chases The fair creations from my breast With all life's thousand cold grimaces. And when at night I stretch me on my bed And darkness spreads its shadow o'er me; No rest comes then anigh my weary head, Wild dreams and spectres dance before me. The God who dwells within my soul Can heave its depths at any hour; Who holds o'er all my faculties control Has o'er the outer world no power; Existence lies a load upon my breast, Life is a curse and death a long'd-for rest. _Mephistopheles_. And yet death never proves a wholly welcome guest. _Faust_. O blest! for whom, when victory's joy fire blazes, Death round his brow the bloody laurel windeth, Whom, weary with the dance's mazes, He on a maiden's bosom findeth. O that, beneath the exalted spirit's power, I had expired, in rapture sinking! _Mephistopheles_. And yet I knew one, in a midnight hour, Who a brown liquid shrank from drinking. _Faust_. Eaves-dropping seems a favorite game with thee. _Mephistopheles_. Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me. _Faust_. Since that sweet tone, with fond appealing, Drew me from witchcraft's horrid maze, And woke the lingering childlike feeling With harmonies of happier days; My curse on all the mock-creations That weave their spell around the soul, And bind it with their incantations And orgies to this wretched hole! Accursed be the high opinion Hugged by the self-exalting mind! Accursed all the dream-dominion That makes the dazzled senses blind! Curs'd be each vision that befools us, Of fame, outlasting earthly life! Curs'd all that, as possession, rules us, As house and barn, as child and wife! Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure He fires our hearts for deeds of might, When, for a dream of idle pleasure, He makes our pillow smooth and light! Curs'd be the grape-vine's balsam-juices! On love's high grace my curses fall! On faith! On hope that man seduces, On patience last, not least, of all! _Choir of spirits_. [_Invisible_.] Woe! Woe! Thou hast ground it to dust, The beautiful world, With mighty fist; To ruins 'tis hurled; A demi-god's blow hath done it! A moment we look upon it, Then carry (sad duty!) The fragments over into nothingness, With tears unavailing Bewailing All the departed beauty. Lordlier Than all sons of men, Proudlier Build it again, Build it up in thy breast anew! A fresh career pursue, Before thee A clearer view, And, from the Empyréan, A new-born Paean Shall greet thee, too! _Mephistopheles_. Be pleased to admire My juvenile choir! Hear how they counsel in manly measure Action and pleasure! Out into life, Its joy and strife, Away from this lonely hole, Where senses and soul Rot in stagnation, Calls thee their high invitation. Give over toying with thy sorrow Which like a vulture feeds upon thy heart; Thou shalt, in the worst company, to-morrow Feel that with men a man thou art. Yet I do not exactly intend Among the canaille to plant thee. I'm none of your magnates, I grant thee; Yet if thou art willing, my friend, Through life to jog on beside me, Thy pleasure in all things shall guide me, To thee will I bind me, A friend thou shalt find me, And, e'en to the grave, Shalt make me thy servant, make me thy slave! _Faust_. And in return what service shall I render? _Mephistopheles_. There's ample grace--no hurry, not the least. _Faust_. No, no, the devil is an egotist, And does not easily "for God's sake" tender That which a neighbor may assist. Speak plainly the conditions, come! 'Tis dangerous taking such a servant home. _Mephistopheles_. I to thy service _here_ agree to bind me, To run and never rest at call of thee; When _over yonder_ thou shalt find me, Then thou shalt do as much for me. _Faust_. I care not much what's over yonder: When thou hast knocked this world asunder, Come if it will the other may! Up from this earth my pleasures all are streaming, Down on my woes this earthly sun is beaming; Let me but end this fit of dreaming, Then come what will, I've nought to say. I'll hear no more of barren wonder If in that world they hate and love, And whether in that future yonder There's a Below and an Above. _Mephistopheles._ In such a mood thou well mayst venture. Bind thyself to me, and by this indenture Thou shalt enjoy with relish keen Fruits of my arts that man had never seen. _Faust_. And what hast thou to give, poor devil? Was e'er a human mind, upon its lofty level, Conceived of by the like of thee? Yet hast thou food that brings satiety, Not satisfaction; gold that reftlessly, Like quicksilver, melts down within The hands; a game in which men never win; A maid that, hanging on my breast, Ogles a neighbor with her wanton glances; Of fame the glorious godlike zest, That like a short-lived meteor dances-- Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot, And trees from which new green is daily peeping! _Mephistopheles_. Such a requirement scares me not; Such treasures have I in my keeping. Yet shall there also come a time, good friend, When we may feast on good things at our leisure. _Faust_. If e'er I lie content upon a lounge of pleasure-- Then let there be of me an end! When thou with flattery canst cajole me, Till I self-satisfied shall be, When thou with pleasure canst befool me, Be that the last of days for me! I lay the wager! _Mephistopheles_. Done! _Faust_. And heartily! Whenever to the passing hour I cry: O stay! thou art so fair! To chain me down I give thee power To the black bottom of despair! Then let my knell no longer linger, Then from my service thou art free, Fall from the clock the index-finger, Be time all over, then, for me! _Mephistopheles_. Think well, for we shall hold you to the letter. _Faust_. Full right to that just now I gave; I spoke not as an idle braggart better. Henceforward I remain a slave, What care I who puts on the setter? _Mephistopheles_. I shall this very day, at Doctor's-feast,[16] My bounden service duly pay thee. But one thing!--For insurance' sake, I pray thee, Grant me a line or two, at least. _Faust_. Pedant! will writing gain thy faith, alone? In all thy life, no man, nor man's word hast thou known? Is't not enough that I the fatal word That passes on my future days have spoken? The world-stream raves and rushes (hast not heard?) And shall a promise hold, unbroken? Yet this delusion haunts the human breast, Who from his soul its roots would sever? Thrice happy in whose heart pure truth finds rest. No sacrifice shall he repent of ever! But from a formal, written, sealed attest, As from a spectre, all men shrink forever. The word and spirit die together, Killed by the sight of wax and leather. What wilt thou, evil sprite, from me? Brass, marble, parchment, paper, shall it be? Shall I subscribe with pencil, pen or graver? Among them all thy choice is free. _Mephistopheles_. This rhetoric of thine to me Hath a somewhat bombastic savor. Any small scrap of paper's good. Thy signature will need a single drop of blood.[17] _Faust_. If this will satisfy thy mood, I will consent thy whim to favor. _Mephistopheles._ Quite a peculiar juice is blood. _Faust_. Fear not that I shall break this bond; O, never! My promise, rightly understood, Fulfils my nature's whole endeavor. I've puffed myself too high, I see; To _thy_ rank only I belong. The Lord of Spirits scorneth me, Nature, shut up, resents the wrong. The thread of thought is snapt asunder, All science to me is a stupid blunder. Let us in sensuality's deep Quench the passions within us blazing! And, the veil of sorcery raising, Wake each miracle from its long sleep! Plunge we into the billowy dance, The rush and roll of time and chance! Then may pleasure and distress, Disappointment and success, Follow each other as fast as they will; Man's restless activity flourishes still. _Mephistopheles_. No bound or goal is set to you; Where'er you like to wander sipping, And catch a tit-bit in your skipping, Eschew all coyness, just fall to, And may you find a good digestion! _Faust_. Now, once for all, pleasure is not the question. I'm sworn to passion's whirl, the agony of bliss, The lover's hate, the sweets of bitterness. My heart, no more by pride of science driven, Shall open wide to let each sorrow enter, And all the good that to man's race is given, I will enjoy it to my being's centre, Through life's whole range, upward and downward sweeping, Their weal and woe upon my bosom heaping, Thus in my single self their selves all comprehending And with them in a common shipwreck ending. _Mephistopheles_. O trust me, who since first I fell from heaven, Have chewed this tough meat many a thousand year, No man digests the ancient leaven, No mortal, from the cradle to the bier. Trust one of _us_--the _whole_ creation To God alone belongs by right; _He_ has in endless day his habitation, _Us_ He hath made for utter night, _You_ for alternate dark and light. _Faust_. But then I _will!_ _Mephistopheles_. Now that's worth hearing! But one thing haunts me, the old song, That time is short and art is long. You need some slight advice, I'm fearing. Take to you one of the poet-feather, Let the gentleman's thought, far-sweeping, Bring all the noblest traits together, On your one crown their honors heaping, The lion's mood The stag's rapidity, The fiery blood of Italy, The Northman's hardihood. Bid him teach thee the art of combining Greatness of soul with fly designing, And how, with warm and youthful passion, To fall in love by plan and fashion. Should like, myself, to come across 'm, Would name him Mr. Microcosm. _Faust_. What am I then? if that for which my heart Yearns with invincible endeavor, The crown of man, must hang unreached forever? _Mephistopheles_. Thou art at last--just what thou art. Pile perukes on thy head whose curls cannot be counted, On yard-high buskins let thy feet be mounted, Still thou art only what thou art. _Faust_. Yes, I have vainly, let me not deny it, Of human learning ransacked all the stores, And when, at last, I set me down in quiet, There gushes up within no new-born force; I am not by a hair's-breadth higher, Am to the Infinite no nigher. _Mephistopheles_. My worthy sir, you see the matter As people generally see; But we must learn to take things better, Before life pleasures wholly flee. The deuce! thy head and all that's in it, Hands, feet and ------ are thine; What I enjoy with zest each minute, Is surely not the less mine? If I've six horses in my span, Is it not mine, their every power? I fly along as an undoubted man, On four and twenty legs the road I scour. Cheer up, then! let all thinking be, And out into the world with me! I tell thee, friend, a speculating churl Is like a beast, some evil spirit chases Along a barren heath in one perpetual whirl, While round about lie fair, green pasturing places. _Faust_. But how shall we begin? _Mephistopheles_. We sally forth e'en now. What martyrdom endurest thou! What kind of life is this to be living, Ennui to thyself and youngsters giving? Let Neighbor Belly that way go! To stay here threshing straw why car'st thou? The best that thou canst think and know To tell the boys not for the whole world dar'st thou. E'en now I hear one in the entry. _Faust_. I have no heart the youth to see. _Mephistopheles_. The poor boy waits there like a sentry, He shall not want a word from me. Come, give me, now, thy robe and bonnet; This mask will suit me charmingly. [_He puts them on_.] Now for my wit--rely upon it! 'Twill take but fifteen minutes, I am sure. Meanwhile prepare thyself to make the pleasant tour! [_Exit_ FAUST.] _Mephistopheles [in_ FAUST'S _long gown_]. Only despise all human wit and lore, The highest flights that thought can soar-- Let but the lying spirit blind thee, And with his spells of witchcraft bind thee, Into my snare the victim creeps.-- To him has destiny a spirit given, That unrestrainedly still onward sweeps, To scale the skies long since hath striven, And all earth's pleasures overleaps. He shall through life's wild scenes be driven, And through its flat unmeaningness, I'll make him writhe and stare and stiffen, And midst all sensual excess, His fevered lips, with thirst all parched and riven, Insatiably shall haunt refreshment's brink; And had he not, himself, his soul to Satan given, Still must he to perdition sink! [_Enter_ A SCHOLAR.] _Scholar_. I have but lately left my home, And with profound submission come, To hold with one some conversation Whom all men name with veneration. _Mephistopheles._ Your courtesy greatly flatters me A man like many another you see. Have you made any applications elsewhere? _Scholar_. Let me, I pray, your teachings share! With all good dispositions I come, A fresh young blood and money some; My mother would hardly hear of my going; But I long to learn here something worth knowing. _Mephistopheles_. You've come to the very place for it, then. _Scholar_. Sincerely, could wish I were off again: My soul already has grown quite weary Of walls and halls, so dark and dreary, The narrowness oppresses me. One sees no green thing, not a tree. On the lecture-seats, I know not what ails me, Sight, hearing, thinking, every thing fails me. _Mephistopheles_. 'Tis all in use, we daily see. The child takes not the mother's breast In the first instance willingly, But soon it feeds itself with zest. So you at wisdom's breast your pleasure Will daily find in growing measure. _Scholar_. I'll hang upon her neck, a raptured wooer, But only tell me, who shall lead me to her? _Mephistopheles_. Ere you go further, give your views As to which faculty you choose? _Scholar_. To be right learn'd I've long desired, And of the natural world aspired To have a perfect comprehension In this and in the heavenly sphere. _Mephistopheles_. I see you're on the right track here; But you'll have to give undivided attention. _Scholar_. My heart and soul in the work'll be found; Only, of course, it would give me pleasure, When summer holidays come round, To have for amusement a little leisure. _Mephistopheles_. Use well the precious time, it flips away so, Yet method gains you time, if I may say so. I counsel you therefore, my worthy friend, The logical leisures first to attend. Then is your mind well trained and cased In Spanish boots,[18] all snugly laced, So that henceforth it can creep ahead On the road of thought with a cautious tread. And not at random shoot and strike, Zig-zagging Jack-o'-lanthorn-like. Then will you many a day be taught That what you once to do had thought Like eating and drinking, extempore, Requires the rule of one, two, three. It is, to be sure, with the fabric of thought, As with the _chef d'�uvre_ by weavers wrought, Where a thousand threads one treadle plies, Backward and forward the shuttles keep going, Invisibly the threads keep flowing, One stroke a thousand fastenings ties: Comes the philosopher and cries: I'll show you, it could not be otherwise: The first being so, the second so, The third and fourth must of course be so; And were not the first and second, you see, The third and fourth could never be. The scholars everywhere call this clever, But none have yet become weavers ever. Whoever will know a live thing and expound it, First kills out the spirit it had when he found it, And then the parts are all in his hand, Minus only the spiritual band! Encheiresin naturæ's[19] the chemical name, By which dunces themselves unwittingly shame. _Scholar_. Cannot entirely comprehend you. _Mephistopheles_. Better success will shortly attend you, When you learn to analyze all creation And give it a proper classification. _Scholar_. I feel as confused by all you've said, As if 'twere a mill-wheel going round in my head! _Mephistopheles_. The next thing most important to mention, Metaphysics will claim your attention! There see that you can clearly explain What fits not into the human brain: For that which will not go into the head, A pompous word will stand you in stead. But, this half-year, at least, observe From regularity never to swerve. You'll have five lectures every day; Be in at the stroke of the bell I pray! And well prepared in every part; Study each paragraph by heart, So that you scarce may need to look To see that he says no more than's in the book; And when he dictates, be at your post, As if you wrote for the Holy Ghost! _Scholar_. That caution is unnecessary! I know it profits one to write, For what one has in black and white, He to his home can safely carry. _Mephistopheles_. But choose some faculty, I pray! _Scholar_. I feel a strong dislike to try the legal college. _Mephistopheles_. I cannot blame you much, I must acknowledge. I know how this profession stands to-day. Statutes and laws through all the ages Like a transmitted malady you trace; In every generation still it rages And softly creeps from place to place. Reason is nonsense, right an impudent suggestion; Alas for thee, that thou a grandson art! Of inborn law in which each man has part, Of that, unfortunately, there's no question. _Scholar_. My loathing grows beneath your speech. O happy he whom you shall teach! To try theology I'm almost minded. _Mephistopheles_. I must not let you by zeal be blinded. This is a science through whose field Nine out of ten in the wrong road will blunder, And in it so much poison lies concealed, That mould you this mistake for physic, no great wonder. Here also it were best, if only one you heard And swore to that one master's word. Upon the whole--words only heed you! These through the temple door will lead you Safe to the shrine of certainty. _Scholar_. Yet in the word a thought must surely be. _Mephistopheles_. All right! But one must not perplex himself about it; For just where one must go without it, The word comes in, a friend in need, to thee. With words can one dispute most featly, With words build up a system neatly, In words thy faith may stand unshaken, From words there can be no iota taken. _Scholar_. Forgive my keeping you with many questions, Yet must I trouble you once more, Will you not give me, on the score Of medicine, some brief suggestions? Three years are a short time, O God! And then the field is quite too broad. If one had only before his nose Something else as a hint to follow!-- _Mephistopheles_ [_aside_]. I'm heartily tired of this dry prose, Must play the devil again out hollow. [_Aloud_.] The healing art is quickly comprehended; Through great and little world you look abroad, And let it wag, when all is ended, As pleases God. Vain is it that your science sweeps the skies, Each, after all, learns only what he can; Who grasps the moment as it flies He is the real man. Your person somewhat takes the eye, Boldness you'll find an easy science, And if you on yourself rely, Others on you will place reliance. In the women's good graces seek first to be seated; Their oh's and ah's, well known of old, So thousand-fold, Are all from a single point to be treated; Be decently modest and then with ease You may get the blind side of them when you please. A title, first, their confidence must waken, That _your_ art many another art transcends, Then may you, lucky man, on all those trifles reckon For which another years of groping spends: Know how to press the little pulse that dances, And fearlessly, with sly and fiery glances, Clasp the dear creatures round the waist To see how tightly they are laced. _Scholar_. This promises! One loves the How and Where to see! _Mephistopheles_. Gray, worthy friend, is all your theory And green the golden tree of life. _Scholar_. I seem, I swear to you, like one who walks in dream. Might I another time, without encroaching, Hear you the deepest things of wisdom broaching? _Mephistopheles_. So far as I have power, you may. _Scholar_. I cannot tear myself away, Till I to you my album have presented. Grant me one line and I'm contented! _Mephistopheles_. With pleasure. [_Writes and returns it_.] _Scholar [reads]._ Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. [_Shuts it reverently, and bows himself out_.] _Mephistopheles_. Let but the brave old saw and my aunt, the serpent, guide thee, And, with thy likeness to God, shall woe one day betide thee! _Faust [enters_]. Which way now shall we go? _Mephistopheles_. Which way it pleases thee. The little world and then the great we see. O with what gain, as well as pleasure, Wilt thou the rollicking cursus measure! _Faust_. I fear the easy life and free With my long beard will scarce agree. 'Tis vain for me to think of succeeding, I never could learn what is called good-breeding. In the presence of others I feel so small; I never can be at my ease at all. _Mephistopheles_. Dear friend, vain trouble to yourself you're giving; Whence once you trust yourself, you know the art of living. _Faust_. But how are we to start, I pray? Where are thy servants, coach and horses? _Mephistopheles_. We spread the mantle, and away It bears us on our airy courses. But, on this bold excursion, thou Must take no great portmanteau now. A little oxygen, which I will soon make ready, From earth uplifts us, quick and steady. And if we're light, we'll soon surmount the sphere; I give thee hearty joy in this thy new career. AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPSIC.[20] _Carousal of Jolly Companions_. _Frosch_.[21] Will nobody drink? Stop those grimaces! I'll teach you how to be cutting your faces! Laugh out! You're like wet straw to-day, And blaze, at other times, like dry hay. _Brander_. 'Tis all your fault; no food for fun you bring, Not a nonsensical nor nasty thing. _Frosch [dashes a glass of wine over his bead_]. There you have both! _Brander_. You hog twice o'er! _Frosch_. You wanted it, what would you more? _Siebel_ Out of the door with them that brawl! Strike up a round; swill, shout there, one and all! Wake up! Hurra! _Altmayer_. Woe's me, I'm lost! Bring cotton! The rascal splits my ear-drum. _Siebel_. Only shout on! When all the arches ring and yell, Then does the base make felt its true ground-swell. _Frosch_. That's right, just throw him out, who undertakes to fret! A! tara! lara da! _Altmayer_. A! tara! lara da! _Frosch_. Our whistles all are wet. [_Sings_.] The dear old holy Romish realm, What holds it still together? _Brander_. A sorry song! Fie! a political song! A tiresome song! Thank God each morning therefor, That you have not the Romish realm to care for! At least I count it a great gain that He Kaiser nor chancellor has made of me. E'en we can't do without a head, however; To choose a pope let us endeavour. You know what qualification throws The casting vote and the true man shows. _Frosch [sings_]. Lady Nightingale, upward soar, Greet me my darling ten thousand times o'er. _Siebel_. No greetings to that girl! Who does so, I resent it! _Frosch_. A greeting and a kiss! And you will not prevent it! [_Sings.]_ Draw the bolts! the night is clear. Draw the bolts! Love watches near. Close the bolts! the dawn is here. _Siebel_. Ay, sing away and praise and glorify your dear! Soon I shall have my time for laughter. The jade has jilted me, and will you too hereafter; May Kobold, for a lover, be her luck! At night may he upon the cross-way meet her; Or, coming from the Blocksberg, some old buck May, as he gallops by, a good-night bleat her! A fellow fine of real flesh and blood Is for the wench a deal too good. She'll get from me but one love-token, That is to have her window broken! _Brander [striking on the table_]. Attend! attend! To me give ear! I know what's life, ye gents, confess it: We've lovesick people sitting near, And it is proper they should hear A good-night strain as well as I can dress it. Give heed! And hear a bran-new song! Join in the chorus loud and strong! [_He sings_.] A rat in the cellar had built his nest, He daily grew sleeker and smoother, He lined his paunch from larder and chest, And was portly as Doctor Luther. The cook had set him poison one day; From that time forward he pined away As if he had love in his body. _Chorus [flouting_]. As if he had love in his body. _Brander_. He raced about with a terrible touse, From all the puddles went swilling, He gnawed and he scratched all over the house, His pain there was no stilling; He made full many a jump of distress, And soon the poor beast got enough, I guess, As if he had love in his body. _Chorus_. As if he had love in his body. _Brander_. With pain he ran, in open day, Right up into the kitchen; He fell on the hearth and there he lay Gasping and moaning and twitchin'. Then laughed the poisoner: "He! he! he! He's piping on the last hole," said she, "As if he had love in his body." _Chorus_. As if he had love in his body. _Siebel_. Just hear now how the ninnies giggle! That's what I call a genuine art, To make poor rats with poison wriggle! _Brander_. You take their case so much to heart? _Altmayer_. The bald pate and the butter-belly! The sad tale makes him mild and tame; He sees in the swollen rat, poor fellow! His own true likeness set in a frame. FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mephistopheles_. Now, first of all, 'tis necessary To show you people making merry, That you may see how lightly life can run. Each day to this small folk's a feast of fun; Not over-witty, self-contented, Still round and round in circle-dance they whirl, As with their tails young kittens twirl. If with no headache they're tormented, Nor dunned by landlord for his pay, They're careless, unconcerned, and gay. _Brander_. They're fresh from travel, one might know it, Their air and manner plainly show it; They came here not an hour ago. _Frosch_. Thou verily art right! My Leipsic well I know! Paris in small it is, and cultivates its people. _Siebel_. What do the strangers seem to thee? _Frosch_. Just let me go! When wine our friendship mellows, Easy as drawing a child's tooth 'twill be To worm their secrets out of these two fellows. They're of a noble house, I dare to swear, They have a proud and discontented air. _Brander_. They're mountebanks, I'll bet a dollar! _Altmayer_. Perhaps. _Frosch_. I'll smoke them, mark you that! _Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. These people never smell the old rat, E'en when he has them by the collar. _Faust_. Fair greeting to you, sirs! _Siebel_. The same, and thanks to boot. [_In a low tone, faking a side look at MEPHISTOPHELES_.] Why has the churl one halting foot? _Mephistopheles_. With your permission, shall we make one party? Instead of a good drink, which get here no one can, Good company must make us hearty. _Altmayer_. You seem a very fastidious man. _Frosch_. I think you spent some time at Rippach[22] lately? You supped with Mister Hans not long since, I dare say? _Mephistopheles_. We passed him on the road today! Fine man! it grieved us parting with him, greatly. He'd much to say to us about his cousins, And sent to each, through us, his compliments by dozens. [_He bows to_ FROSCH.] _Altmayer_ [_softly_]. You've got it there! he takes! _Siebel_. The chap don't want for wit! _Frosch_. I'll have him next time, wait a bit! _Mephistopheles_. If I mistook not, didn't we hear Some well-trained voices chorus singing? 'Faith, music must sound finely here. From all these echoing arches ringing! _Frosch_. You are perhaps a connoisseur? _Mephistopheles_. O no! my powers are small, I'm but an amateur. _Altmayer_. Give us a song! _Mephistopheles_. As many's you desire. _Siebel_. But let it be a bran-new strain! _Mephistopheles_. No fear of that! We've just come back from Spain, The lovely land of wine and song and lyre. [_Sings_.] There was a king, right stately, Who had a great, big flea,-- _Frosch_. Hear him! A flea! D'ye take there, boys? A flea! I call that genteel company. _Mephistopheles_ [_resumes_]. There was a king, right stately, Who had a great, big flea, And loved him very greatly, As if his own son were he. He called the knight of stitches; The tailor came straightway: Ho! measure the youngster for breeches, And make him a coat to-day! _Brander_. But don't forget to charge the knight of stitches, The measure carefully to take, And, as he loves his precious neck, To leave no wrinkles in the breeches. _Mephistopheles_. In silk and velvet splendid The creature now was drest, To his coat were ribbons appended, A cross was on his breast. He had a great star on his collar, Was a minister, in short; And his relatives, greater and smaller, Became great people at court. The lords and ladies of honor Fared worse than if they were hung, The queen, she got them upon her, And all were bitten and stung, And did not dare to attack them, Nor scratch, but let them stick. We choke them and we crack them The moment we feel one prick. _Chorus_ [_loud_]. We choke 'em and we crack 'em The moment we feel one prick. _Frosch_. Bravo! Bravo! That was fine! _Siebel_. So shall each flea his life resign! _Brander_. Point your fingers and nip them fine! _Altmayer_. Hurra for Liberty! Hurra for Wine! _Mephistopheles_. I'd pledge the goddess, too, to show how high I set her, Right gladly, if your wines were just a trifle better. _Siebel_. Don't say that thing again, you fretter! _Mephistopheles_. Did I not fear the landlord to affront; I'd show these worthy guests this minute What kind of stuff our stock has in it. _Siebel_. Just bring it on! I'll bear the brunt. _Frosch_. Give us a brimming glass, our praise shall then be ample, But don't dole out too small a sample; For if I'm to judge and criticize, I need a good mouthful to make me wise. _Altmayer_ [_softly_]. They're from the Rhine, as near as I can make it. _Mephistopheles_. Bring us a gimlet here! _Brander_. What shall be done with that? You've not the casks before the door, I take it? _Altmayer_. The landlord's tool-chest there is easily got at. _Mephistopheles_ [_takes the gimlet_] (_to Frosch_). What will you have? It costs but speaking. _Frosch_. How do you mean? Have you so many kinds? _Mephistopheles_. Enough to suit all sorts of minds. _Altmayer_. Aha! old sot, your lips already licking! _Frosch_. Well, then! if I must choose, let Rhine-wine fill my beaker, Our fatherland supplies the noblest liquor. MEPHISTOPHELES [_boring a hole in the rim of the table near the place where_ FROSCH _sits_]. Get us a little wax right off to make the stoppers! _Altmayer_. Ah, these are jugglers' tricks, and whappers! _Mephistopheles_ [_to Brander_]. And you? _Brander_. Champaigne's the wine for me, But then right sparkling it must be! [MEPHISTOPHELES _bores; meanwhile one of them has made the wax-stoppers and stopped the holes_.] _Brander_. Hankerings for foreign things will sometimes haunt you, The good so far one often finds; Your real German man can't bear the French, I grant you, And yet will gladly drink their wines. _Siebel_ [_while Mephistopheles approaches his seat_]. I don't like sour, it sets my mouth awry, Let mine have real sweetness in it! _Mephistopheles_ [_bores_]. Well, you shall have Tokay this minute. _Altmayer_. No, sirs, just look me in the eye! I see through this, 'tis what the chaps call smoking. _Mephistopheles_. Come now! That would be serious joking, To make so free with worthy men. But quickly now! Speak out again! With what description can I serve you? _Altmayer_. Wait not to ask; with any, then. [_After all the holes are bored and stopped_.] _Mephistopheles_ [_with singular gestures_]. From the vine-stock grapes we pluck; Horns grow on the buck; Wine is juicy, the wooden table, Like wooden vines, to give wine is able. An eye for nature's depths receive! Here is a miracle, only believe! Now draw the plugs and drink your fill! ALL [_drawing the stoppers, and catching each in his glass the wine he had desired_]. Sweet spring, that yields us what we will! _Mephistopheles_. Only be careful not a drop to spill! [_They drink repeatedly_.] _All_ [_sing_]. We're happy all as cannibals, Five hundred hogs together. _Mephistopheles_. Look at them now, they're happy as can be! _Faust_. To go would suit my inclination. _Mephistopheles_. But first give heed, their bestiality Will make a glorious demonstration. SIEBEL [_drinks carelessly; the wine is spilt upon the ground and turns to flame_]. Help! fire! Ho! Help! The flames of hell! _Mephistopheles [_conjuring the flame_]. Peace, friendly element, be still! [_To the Toper_.] This time 'twas but a drop of fire from purgatory. _Siebel_. What does this mean? Wait there, or you'll be sorry! It seems you do not know us well. _Frosch_. Not twice, in this way, will it do to joke us! _Altmayer_. I vote, we give him leave himself here _scarce_ to make. _Siebel_. What, sir! How dare you undertake To carry on here your old hocus-pocus? _Mephistopheles_. Be still, old wine-cask! _Siebel_. Broomstick, you! Insult to injury add? Confound you! _Brander_. Stop there! Or blows shall rain down round you! ALTMAYER [_draws a stopper out of the table; fire flies at him_]. I burn! I burn! _Siebel_. Foul sorcery! Shame! Lay on! the rascal is fair game! [_They draw their knives and rush at_ MEPHISTOPHELES.] _Mephistopheles_ [_with a serious mien_]. Word and shape of air! Change place, new meaning wear! Be here--and there! [_They stand astounded and look at each other_.] _Altmayer_. Where am I? What a charming land! _Frosch_. Vine hills! My eyes! Is't true? _Siebel_. And grapes, too, close at hand! _Brander_. Beneath this green see what a stem is growing! See what a bunch of grapes is glowing! [_He seizes_ SIEBEL _by the nose. The rest do the same to each other and raise their knives._] _Mephistopheles_ [_as above_]. Loose, Error, from their eyes the band! How Satan plays his tricks, you need not now be told of. [_He vanishes with_ FAUST, _the companions start back from each other_.] _Siebel_. What ails me? _Altmayer_. How? _Frosch_. Was that thy nose, friend, I had hold of? _Brander_ [_to Siebel_]. And I have thine, too, in my hand! _Altmayer_. O what a shock! through all my limbs 'tis crawling! Get me a chair, be quick, I'm falling! _Frosch_. No, say what was the real case? _Siebel_. O show me where the churl is hiding! Alive he shall not leave the place! _Altmayer_. Out through the cellar-door I saw him riding-- Upon a cask--he went full chase.-- Heavy as lead my feet are growing. [_Turning towards the table_.] My! If the wine should yet be flowing. _Siebel_. 'Twas all deception and moonshine. _Frosch_. Yet I was sure I did drink wine. _Brander_. But how about the bunches, brother? _Altmayer_. After such miracles, I'll doubt no other! WITCHES' KITCHEN. [_On a low hearth stands a great kettle over the fire. In the smoke, which rises from it, are seen various forms. A female monkey[28] sits by the kettle and skims it, and takes care that it does not run over. The male monkey with the young ones sits close by, warming himself. Walls and ceiling are adorned 'with the most singular witch-household stuff_.] FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust_. Would that this vile witch-business were well over! Dost promise me I shall recover In this hodge-podge of craziness? From an old hag do I advice require? And will this filthy cooked-up mess My youth by thirty years bring nigher? Woe's me, if that's the best you know! Already hope is from my bosom banished. Has not a noble mind found long ago Some balsam to restore a youth that's vanished? _Mephistopheles_. My friend, again thou speakest a wise thought! I know a natural way to make thee young,--none apter! But in another book it must be sought, And is a quite peculiar chapter. _Faust_. I beg to know it. _Mephistopheles_. Well! here's one that needs no pay, No help of physic, nor enchanting. Out to the fields without delay, And take to hacking, digging, planting; Run the same round from day to day, A treadmill-life, contented, leading, With simple fare both mind and body feeding, Live with the beast as beast, nor count it robbery Shouldst thou manure, thyself, the field thou reapest; Follow this course and, trust to me, For eighty years thy youth thou keepest! _Faust_. I am not used to that, I ne'er could bring me to it, To wield the spade, I could not do it. The narrow life befits me not at all. _Mephistopheles_. So must we on the witch, then, call. _Faust_. But why just that old hag? Canst thou Not brew thyself the needful liquor? _Mephistopheles_. That were a pretty pastime now I'd build about a thousand bridges quicker. Science and art alone won't do, The work will call for patience, too; Costs a still spirit years of occupation: Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation. To tell each thing that forms a part Would sound to thee like wildest fable! The devil indeed has taught the art; To make it not the devil is able. [_Espying the animals_.] See, what a genteel breed we here parade! This is the house-boy! that's the maid! [_To the animals_.] Where's the old lady gone a mousing? _The animals_. Carousing; Out she went By the chimney-vent! _Mephistopheles_. How long does she spend in gadding and storming? _The animals_. While we are giving our paws a warming. _Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. How do you find the dainty creatures? _Faust_. Disgusting as I ever chanced to see! _Mephistopheles_. No! a discourse like this to me, I own, is one of life's most pleasant features; [_To the animals_.] Say, cursed dolls, that sweat, there, toiling! What are you twirling with the spoon? _Animals_. A common beggar-soup we're boiling. _Mephistopheles_. You'll have a run of custom soon. THE HE-MONKEY [_Comes along and fawns on_ MEPHISTOPHELES]. O fling up the dice, Make me rich in a trice, Turn fortune's wheel over! My lot is right bad, If money I had, My wits would recover. _Mephistopheles_. The monkey'd be as merry as a cricket, Would somebody give him a lottery-ticket! [_Meanwhile the young monkeys have been playing with a great ball, which they roll backward and forward_.] _The monkey_. 'The world's the ball; See't rise and fall, Its roll you follow; Like glass it rings: Both, brittle things! Within 'tis hollow. There it shines clear, And brighter here,-- I live--by 'Pollo!-- Dear son, I pray, Keep hands away! _Thou_ shalt fall so! 'Tis made of clay, Pots are, also. _Mephistopheles_. What means the sieve? _The monkey [takes it down_]. Wert thou a thief, 'Twould show the thief and shame him. [_Runs to his mate and makes her look through_.] Look through the sieve! Discern'st thou the thief, And darest not name him? _Mephistopheles [approaching the fire_]. And what's this pot? _The monkeys_. The dunce! I'll be shot! He knows not the pot, He knows not the kettle! _Mephistopheles_. Impertinence! Hush! _The monkey_. Here, take you the brush, And sit on the settle! [_He forces_ MEPHISTOPHELES _to sit down_.] FAUST [_who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, now approaching and now receding from it_]. What do I see? What heavenly face Doth, in this magic glass, enchant me! O love, in mercy, now, thy swiftest pinions grant me! And bear me to her field of space! Ah, if I seek to approach what doth so haunt me, If from this spot I dare to stir, Dimly as through a mist I gaze on her!-- The loveliest vision of a woman! Such lovely woman can there be? Must I in these reposing limbs naught human. But of all heavens the finest essence see? Was such a thing on earth seen ever? _Mephistopheles_. Why, when you see a God six days in hard work spend, And then cry bravo at the end, Of course you look for something clever. Look now thy fill; I have for thee Just such a jewel, and will lead thee to her; And happy, whose good fortune it shall be, To bear her home, a prospered wooer! [FAUST _keeps on looking into the mirror_. MEPHISTOPHELES _stretching himself out on the settle and playing with the brush, continues speaking_.] Here sit I like a king upon his throne, The sceptre in my hand,--I want the crown alone. THE ANIMALS [_who up to this time have been going through all sorts of queer antics with each other, bring_ MEPHISTOPHELES _a crown with a loud cry_]. O do be so good,-- With sweat and with blood, To take it and lime it; [_They go about clumsily with the crown and break it into two pieces, with which they jump round_.] 'Tis done now! We're free! We speak and we see, We hear and we rhyme it; _Faust [facing the mirror_]. Woe's me! I've almost lost my wits. _Mephistopheles [pointing to the animals_]. My head, too, I confess, is very near to spinning. _The animals_. And then if it hits And every thing fits, We've thoughts for our winning. _Faust [as before_]. Up to my heart the flame is flying! Let us begone--there's danger near! _Mephistopheles [in the former position_]. Well, this, at least, there's no denying, That we have undissembled poets here. [The kettle, which the she-monkey has hitherto left unmatched, begins to run over; a great flame breaks out, which roars up the chimney. The_ WITCH _comes riding down through the flame with a terrible outcry_.] _Witch_. Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! The damned beast! The cursed sow! Neglected the kettle, scorched the Frau! The cursed crew! [_Seeing_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.] And who are you? And what d'ye do? And what d'ye want? And who sneaked in? The fire-plague grim Shall light on him In every limb! [_She makes a dive at the kettle with the skimmer and spatters flames at _FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES_, and the creatures. These last whimper_.] MEPHISTOPHELES [_inverting the brush which he holds in his hand, and striking among the glasses and pots_]. In two! In two! There lies the brew! There lies the glass! This joke must pass; For time-beat, ass! To thy melody, 'twill do. [_While the_ WITCH _starts back full of wrath and horror.] Skeleton! Scarcecrow! Spectre! Know'st thou me, Thy lord and master? What prevents my dashing Right in among thy cursed company, Thyself and all thy monkey spirits smashing? Has the red waistcoat thy respect no more? Has the cock's-feather, too, escaped attention? Hast never seen this face before? My name, perchance, wouldst have me mention? _The witch_. Pardon the rudeness, sir, in me! But sure no cloven foot I see. Nor find I your two ravens either. _Mephistopheles_. I'll let thee off for this once so; For a long while has passed, full well I know, Since the last time we met together. The culture, too, which licks the world to shape, The devil himself cannot escape; The phantom of the North men's thoughts have left behind them, Horns, tail, and claws, where now d'ye find them? And for the foot, with which dispense I nowise can, 'Twould with good circles hurt my standing; And so I've worn, some years, like many a fine young man, False calves to make me more commanding. _The witch [dancing_]. O I shall lose my wits, I fear, Do I, again, see Squire Satan here! _Mephistopheles_. Woman, the name offends my ear! _The witch_. Why so? What has it done to you? _Mephistopheles_. It has long since to fable-books been banished; But men are none the better for it; true, The wicked _one_, but not the wicked _ones_, has vanished. Herr Baron callst thou me, then all is right and good; I am a cavalier, like others. Doubt me? Doubt for a moment of my noble blood? See here the family arms I bear about me! [_He makes an indecent gesture.] The witch [laughs immoderately_]. Ha! ha! full well I know you, sir! You are the same old rogue you always were! _Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. I pray you, carefully attend, This is the way to deal with witches, friend. _The witch_. Now, gentles, what shall I produce? _Mephistopheles_. A right good glassful of the well-known juice! And pray you, let it be the oldest; Age makes it doubly strong for use. _The witch_. Right gladly! Here I have a bottle, From which, at times, I wet my throttle; Which now, not in the slightest, stinks; A glass to you I don't mind giving; [_Softly_.] But if this man, without preparing, drinks, He has not, well you know, another hour for living. _Mephistopheles_. 'Tis a good friend of mine, whom it shall straight cheer up; Thy kitchen's best to give him don't delay thee. Thy ring--thy spell, now, quick, I pray thee, And give him then a good full cup. [_The_ WITCH, _with strange gestures, draws a circle, and places singular things in it; mean-while the glasses begin to ring, the kettle to sound and make music. Finally, she brings a great book and places the monkeys in the circle, whom she uses as a reading-desk and to hold the torches. She beckons_ FAUST _to come to her_.] _Faust [to Mephistopheles_]. Hold! what will come of this? These creatures, These frantic gestures and distorted features, And all the crazy, juggling fluff, I've known and loathed it long enough! _Mephistopheles_. Pugh! that is only done to smoke us; Don't be so serious, my man! She must, as Doctor, play her hocus-pocus To make the dose work better, that's the plan. [_He constrains_ FAUST _to step into the circle_.] THE WITCH [_beginning with great emphasis to declaim out of the book_] Remember then! Of One make Ten, The Two let be, Make even Three, There's wealth for thee. The Four pass o'er! Of Five and Six, (The witch so speaks,) Make Seven and Eight, The thing is straight: And Nine is One And Ten is none-- This is the witch's one-time-one![24] _Faust_. The old hag talks like one delirious. _Mephistopheles_. There's much more still, no less mysterious, I know it well, the whole book sounds just so! I've lost full many a year in poring o'er it, For perfect contradiction, you must know, A mystery stands, and fools and wise men bow before it, The art is old and new, my son. Men, in all times, by craft and terror, With One and Three, and Three and One, For truth have propagated error. They've gone on gabbling so a thousand years; Who on the fools would waste a minute? Man generally thinks, if words he only hears, Articulated noise must have some meaning in it. _The witch [goes on_]. Deep wisdom's power Has, to this hour, From all the world been hidden! Whoso thinks not, To him 'tis brought, To him it comes unbidden. _Faust_. What nonsense is she talking here? My heart is on the point of cracking. In one great choir I seem to hear A hundred thousand ninnies clacking. _Mephistopheles_. Enough, enough, rare Sibyl, sing us These runes no more, thy beverage bring us, And quickly fill the goblet to the brim; This drink may by my friend be safely taken: Full many grades the man can reckon, Many good swigs have entered him. [_The_ WITCH, _with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a cup; as she puts it to_ FAUST'S _lips, there rises a light flame_.] _Mephistopheles_. Down with it! Gulp it down! 'Twill prove All that thy heart's wild wants desire. Thou, with the devil, hand and glove,[25] And yet wilt be afraid of fire? [_The_ WITCH _breaks the circle_; FAUST _steps out_.] _Mephistopheles_. Now briskly forth! No rest for thee! _The witch_. Much comfort may the drink afford you! _Mephistopheles [to the witch_]. And any favor you may ask of me, I'll gladly on Walpurgis' night accord you. _The witch_. Here is a song, which if you sometimes sing, 'Twill stir up in your heart a special fire. _Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Only make haste; and even shouldst thou tire, Still follow me; one must perspire, That it may set his nerves all quivering. I'll teach thee by and bye to prize a noble leisure, And soon, too, shalt thou feel with hearty pleasure, How busy Cupid stirs, and shakes his nimble wing. _Faust_. But first one look in yonder glass, I pray thee! Such beauty I no more may find! _Mephistopheles_. Nay! in the flesh thine eyes shall soon display thee The model of all woman-kind. [_Softly_.] Soon will, when once this drink shall heat thee, In every girl a Helen meet thee! A STREET. FAUST. MARGARET [_passing over_]. _Faust_. My fair young lady, will it offend her If I offer my arm and escort to lend her? _Margaret_. Am neither lady, nor yet am fair! Can find my way home without any one's care. [_Disengages herself and exit_.] _Faust_. By heavens, but then the child _is_ fair! I've never seen the like, I swear. So modest is she and so pure, And somewhat saucy, too, to be sure. The light of the cheek, the lip's red bloom, I shall never forget to the day of doom! How me cast down her lovely eyes, Deep in my soul imprinted lies; How she spoke up, so curt and tart, Ah, that went right to my ravished heart! [_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.] _Faust_. Hark, thou shalt find me a way to address her! _Mephistopheles_. Which one? _Faust_. She just went by. _Mephistopheles_. What! She? She came just now from her father confessor, Who from all sins pronounced her free; I stole behind her noiselessly, 'Tis an innocent thing, who, for nothing at all, Must go to the confessional; O'er such as she no power I hold! _Faust_. But then she's over fourteen years old. _Mephistopheles_. Thou speak'st exactly like Jack Rake, Who every fair flower his own would make. And thinks there can be no favor nor fame, But one may straightway pluck the same. But 'twill not always do, we see. _Faust_. My worthy Master Gravity, Let not a word of the Law be spoken! One thing be clearly understood,-- Unless I clasp the sweet, young blood This night in my arms--then, well and good: When midnight strikes, our bond is broken. _Mephistopheles_. Reflect on all that lies in the way! I need a fortnight, at least, to a day, For finding so much as a way to reach her. _Faust_. Had I seven hours, to call my own, Without the devil's aid, alone I'd snare with ease so young a creature. _Mephistopheles_. You talk quite Frenchman-like to-day; But don't be vexed beyond all measure. What boots it thus to snatch at pleasure? 'Tis not so great, by a long way, As if you first, with tender twaddle, And every sort of fiddle-faddle, Your little doll should mould and knead, As one in French romances may read. _Faust_. My appetite needs no such spur. _Mephistopheles_. Now, then, without a jest or slur, I tell you, once for all, such speed With the fair creature won't succeed. Nothing will here by storm be taken; We must perforce on intrigue reckon. _Faust_. Get me some trinket the angel has blest! Lead me to her chamber of rest! Get me a 'kerchief from her neck, A garter get me for love's sweet sake! _Mephistopheles_. To prove to you my willingness To aid and serve you in this distress; You shall visit her chamber, by me attended, Before the passing day is ended. _Faust_. And see her, too? and have her? _Mephistopheles_. Nay! She will to a neighbor's have gone away. Meanwhile alone by yourself you may, There in her atmosphere, feast at leisure And revel in dreams of future pleasure. _Faust_. Shall we start at once? _Mephistopheles_. 'Tis too early yet. _Faust_. Some present to take her for me you must get. [_Exit_.] _Mephistopheles_. Presents already! Brave! He's on the right foundation! Full many a noble place I know, And treasure buried long ago; Must make a bit of exploration. [_Exit_.] EVENING. _A little cleanly Chamber_. MARGARET [_braiding and tying up her hair_.] I'd give a penny just to say What gentleman that was to-day! How very gallant he seemed to be, He's of a noble family; That I could read from his brow and bearing-- And he would not have otherwise been so daring. [_Exit_.] FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mephistopheles_. Come in, step softly, do not fear! _Faust [after a pause_]. Leave me alone, I prithee, here! _Mephistopheles [peering round_]. Not every maiden keeps so neat. [_Exit_.] _Faust [gazing round_]. Welcome this hallowed still retreat! Where twilight weaves its magic glow. Seize on my heart, love-longing, sad and sweet, That on the dew of hope dost feed thy woe! How breathes around the sense of stillness, Of quiet, order, and content! In all this poverty what fulness! What blessedness within this prison pent! [_He throws himself into a leathern chair by the bed_.] Take me, too! as thou hast, in years long flown, In joy and grief, so many a generation! Ah me! how oft, on this ancestral throne, Have troops of children climbed with exultation! Perhaps, when Christmas brought the Holy Guest, My love has here, in grateful veneration The grandsire's withered hand with child-lips prest. I feel, O maiden, circling me, Thy spirit of grace and fulness hover, Which daily like a mother teaches thee The table-cloth to spread in snowy purity, And even, with crinkled sand the floor to cover. Dear, godlike hand! a touch of thine Makes this low house a heavenly kingdom slime! And here! [_He lifts a bed-curtain_.] What blissful awe my heart thrills through! Here for long hours could I linger. Here, Nature! in light dreams, thy airy finger The inborn angel's features drew! Here lay the child, when life's fresh heavings Its tender bosom first made warm, And here with pure, mysterious weavings The spirit wrought its godlike form! And thou! What brought thee here? what power Stirs in my deepest soul this hour? What wouldst thou here? What makes thy heart so sore? Unhappy Faust! I know thee thus no more. Breathe I a magic atmosphere? The will to enjoy how strong I felt it,-- And in a dream of love am now all melted! Are we the sport of every puff of air? And if she suddenly should enter now, How would she thy presumptuous folly humble! Big John-o'dreams! ah, how wouldst thou Sink at her feet, collapse and crumble! _Mephistopheles_. Quick, now! She comes! I'm looking at her. _Faust_. Away! Away! O cruel fate! _Mephistopheles_. Here is a box of moderate weight; I got it somewhere else--no matter! Just shut it up, here, in the press, I swear to you, 'twill turn her senses; I meant the trifles, I confess, To scale another fair one's fences. True, child is child and play is play. _Faust_. Shall I? I know not. _Mephistopheles_. Why delay? You mean perhaps to keep the bauble? If so, I counsel you to spare From idle passion hours so fair, And me, henceforth, all further trouble. I hope you are not avaricious! I rub my hands, I scratch my head-- [_He places the casket in the press and locks it up again_.] (Quick! Time we sped!)-- That the dear creature may be led And moulded by your will and wishes; And you stand here as glum, As one at the door of the auditorium, As if before your eyes you saw In bodily shape, with breathless awe, Metaphysics and physics, grim and gray! Away! [_Exit_.] _Margaret [with a lamp_]. It seems so close, so sultry here. [_She opens the window_.] Yet it isn't so very warm out there, I feel--I know not how--oh dear! I wish my mother 'ld come home, I declare! I feel a shudder all over me crawl-- I'm a silly, timid thing, that's all! [_She begins to sing, while undressing_.] There was a king in Thulè, To whom, when near her grave, The mistress he loved so truly A golden goblet gave. He cherished it as a lover, He drained it, every bout; His eyes with tears ran over, As oft as he drank thereout. And when he found himself dying, His towns and cities he told; Naught else to his heir denying Save only the goblet of gold. His knights he straightway gathers And in the midst sate he, In the banquet hall of the fathers In the castle over the sea. There stood th' old knight of liquor, And drank the last life-glow, Then flung the holy beaker Into the flood below. He saw it plunging, drinking And sinking in the roar, His eyes in death were sinking, He never drank one drop more. [_She opens the press, to put away her clothes, and discovers the casket_.] How in the world came this fine casket here? I locked the press, I'm very clear. I wonder what's inside! Dear me! it's very queer! Perhaps 'twas brought here as a pawn, In place of something mother lent. Here is a little key hung on, A single peep I shan't repent! What's here? Good gracious! only see! I never saw the like in my born days! On some chief festival such finery Might on some noble lady blaze. How would this chain become my neck! Whose may this splendor be, so lonely? [_She arrays herself in it, and steps before the glass_.] Could I but claim the ear-rings only! A different figure one would make. What's beauty worth to thee, young blood! May all be very well and good; What then? 'Tis half for pity's sake They praise your pretty features. Each burns for gold, All turns on gold,-- Alas for us! poor creatures! PROMENADE. FAUST [_going up and down in thought_.] MEPHISTOPHELES _to him_. _Mephistopheles_. By all that ever was jilted! By all the infernal fires! I wish I knew something worse, to curse as my heart desires! _Faust_. What griping pain has hold of thee? Such grins ne'er saw I in the worst stage-ranter! _Mephistopheles_. Oh, to the devil I'd give myself instanter, If I were not already he! _Faust_. Some pin's loose in your head, old fellow! That fits you, like a madman thus to bellow! _Mephistopheles_. Just think, the pretty toy we got for Peg, A priest has hooked, the cursed plague I-- The thing came under the eye of the mother, And caused her a dreadful internal pother: The woman's scent is fine and strong; Snuffles over her prayer-book all day long, And knows, by the smell of an article, plain, Whether the thing is holy or profane; And as to the box she was soon aware There could not be much blessing there. "My child," she cried, "unrighteous gains Ensnare the soul, dry up the veins. We'll consecrate it to God's mother, She'll give us some heavenly manna or other!" Little Margaret made a wry face; "I see 'Tis, after all, a gift horse," said she; "And sure, no godless one is he Who brought it here so handsomely." The mother sent for a priest (they're cunning); Who scarce had found what game was running, When he rolled his greedy eyes like a lizard, And, "all is rightly disposed," said he, "Who conquers wins, for a certainty. The church has of old a famous gizzard, She calls it little whole lands to devour, Yet never a surfeit got to this hour; The church alone, dear ladies; _sans_ question, Can give unrighteous gains digestion." _Faust_. That is a general pratice, too, Common alike with king and Jew. _Mephistopheles_. Then pocketed bracelets and chains and rings As if they were mushrooms or some such things, With no more thanks, (the greedy-guts!) Than if it had been a basket of nuts, Promised them all sorts of heavenly pay-- And greatly edified were they. _Faust_. And Margery? _Mephistopheles_. Sits there in distress, And what to do she cannot guess, The jewels her daily and nightly thought, And he still more by whom they were brought. _Faust._ My heart is troubled for my pet. Get her at once another set! The first were no great things in their way. _Mephistopheles._ O yes, my gentleman finds all child's play! _Faust._ And what I wish, that mind and do! Stick closely to her neighbor, too. Don't be a devil soft as pap, And fetch me some new jewels, old chap! _Mephistopheles._ Yes, gracious Sir, I will with pleasure. [_Exit_ FAUST.] Such love-sick fools will puff away Sun, moon, and stars, and all in the azure, To please a maiden's whimsies, any day. [_Exit._] THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE. MARTHA [_alone]._ My dear good man--whom God forgive! He has not treated me well, as I live! Right off into the world he's gone And left me on the straw alone. I never did vex him, I say it sincerely, I always loved him, God knows how dearly. [_She weeps_.] Perhaps he's dead!--O cruel fate!-- If I only had a certificate! _Enter_ MARGARET. Dame Martha! _Martha_. What now, Margery? _Margaret_. I scarce can keep my knees from sinking! Within my press, again, not thinking, I find a box of ebony, With things--can't tell how grand they are,-- More splendid than the first by far. _Martha_. You must not tell it to your mother, She'd serve it as she did the other. _Margaret_. Ah, only look! Behold and see! _Martha [puts them on her_]. Fortunate thing! I envy thee! _Margaret._ Alas, in the street or at church I never Could be seen on any account whatever. _Martha._ Come here as often as you've leisure, And prink yourself quite privately; Before the looking-glass walk up and down at pleasure, Fine times for both us 'twill be; Then, on occasions, say at some great feast, Can show them to the world, one at a time, at least. A chain, and then an ear-pearl comes to view; Your mother may not see, we'll make some pretext, too. _Margaret._ Who could have brought both caskets in succession? There's something here for just suspicion! [_A knock._ ] Ah, God! If that's my mother--then! _Martha_ [_peeping through the blind_]. 'Tis a strange gentleman--come in! [_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.] Must, ladies, on your kindness reckon To excuse the freedom I have taken; [_Steps back with profound respect at seeing_ MARGARET.] I would for Dame Martha Schwerdtlein inquire! _Martha._ I'm she, what, sir, is your desire? _Mephistopheles_ [_aside to her_]. I know your face, for now 'twill do; A distinguished lady is visiting you. For a call so abrupt be pardon meted, This afternoon it shall be repeated. _Martha [aloud]._ For all the world, think, child! my sakes! The gentleman you for a lady takes. _Margaret_. Ah, God! I am a poor young blood; The gentleman is quite too good; The jewels and trinkets are none of my own. _Mephistopheles_. Ah, 'tis not the jewels and trinkets alone; Her look is so piercing, so _distinguè_! How glad I am to be suffered to stay. _Martha_. What bring you, sir? I long to hear-- _Mephistopheles_. Would I'd a happier tale for your ear! I hope you'll forgive me this one for repeating: Your husband is dead and sends you a greeting. _Martha_. Is dead? the faithful heart! Woe! Woe! My husband dead! I, too, shall go! _Margaret_. Ah, dearest Dame, despair not thou! _Mephistopheles_ Then, hear the mournful story now! _Margaret_. Ah, keep me free from love forever, I should never survive such a loss, no, never! _Mephistopheles_. Joy and woe, woe and joy, must have each other. _Martha_. Describe his closing hours to me! _Mephistopheles_. In Padua lies our departed brother, In the churchyard of St. Anthony, In a cool and quiet bed lies sleeping, In a sacred spot's eternal keeping. _Martha_. And this was all you had to bring me? _Mephistopheles_. All but one weighty, grave request! "Bid her, when I am dead, three hundred masses sing me!" With this I have made a clean pocket and breast. _Martha_. What! not a medal, pin nor stone? Such as, for memory's sake, no journeyman will lack, Saved in the bottom of his sack, And sooner would hunger, be a pauper-- _Mephistopheles_. Madam, your case is hard, I own! But blame him not, he squandered ne'er a copper. He too bewailed his faults with penance sore, Ay, and his wretched luck bemoaned a great deal more. _Margaret_. Alas! that mortals so unhappy prove! I surely will for him pray many a requiem duly. _Mephistopheles_. You're worthy of a spouse this moment; truly You are a child a man might love. _Margaret_. It's not yet time for that, ah no! _Mephistopheles_. If not a husband, say, meanwhile a beau. It is a choice and heavenly blessing, Such a dear thing to one's bosom pressing. _Margaret_. With us the custom is not so. _Mephistopheles_. Custom or not! It happens, though. _Martha_. Tell on! _Mephistopheles_. I slood beside his bed, as he lay dying, Better than dung it was somewhat,-- Half-rotten straw; but then, he died as Christian ought, And found an unpaid score, on Heaven's account-book lying. "How must I hate myself," he cried, "inhuman! So to forsake my business and my woman! Oh! the remembrance murders me! Would she might still forgive me this side heaven!" _Martha_ [_weeping_]. The dear good man! he has been long forgiven. _Mephistopheles_. "But God knows, I was less to blame than she." _Martha_. A lie! And at death's door! abominable! _Mephistopheles_. If I to judge of men half-way am able, He surely fibbed while passing hence. "Ways to kill time, (he said)--be sure, I did not need them; First to get children--and then bread to feed them, And bread, too, in the widest sense, And even to eat my bit in peace could not be thought on." _Martha_. Has he all faithfulness, all love, so far forgotten, The drudgery by day and night! _Mephistopheles_. Not so, he thought of you with all his might. He said: "When I from Malta went away, For wife and children my warm prayers ascended; And Heaven so far our cause befriended, Our ship a Turkish cruiser took one day, Which for the mighty Sultan bore a treasure. Then valor got its well-earned pay, And I too, who received but my just measure, A goodly portion bore away." _Martha_. How? Where? And he has left it somewhere buried? _Mephistopheles_. Who knows which way by the four winds 'twas carried? He chanced to take a pretty damsel's eye, As, a strange sailor, he through Naples jaunted; All that she did for him so tenderly, E'en to his blessed end the poor man haunted. _Martha_. The scamp! his children thus to plunder! And could not all his troubles sore Arrest his vile career, I wonder? _Mephistopheles_. But mark! his death wipes off the score. Were I in your place now, good lady; One year I'd mourn him piously And look about, meanwhiles, for a new flame already. _Martha_. Ah, God! another such as he I may not find with ease on this side heaven! Few such kind fools as this dear spouse of mine. Only to roving he was too much given, And foreign women and foreign wine, And that accursed game of dice. _Mephistopheles_. Mere trifles these; you need not heed 'em, If he, on his part, not o'er-nice, Winked at, in you, an occasional freedom. I swear, on that condition, too, I would, myself, 'change rings with you! _Martha_. The gentleman is pleased to jest now! _Mephistopheles [aside_]. I see it's now high time I stirred! She'd take the very devil at his word. [_To_ MARGERY.] How is it with your heart, my best, now? _Margaret_. What means the gentleman? _Mephistopheles. [aside_]. Thou innocent young heart! [_Aloud_.] Ladies, farewell! _Margaret_. Farewell! _Martha_. But quick, before we part!-- I'd like some witness, vouching truly Where, how and when my love died and was buried duly. I've always paid to order great attention, Would of his death read some newspaper mention. _Mephistopheles_. Ay, my dear lady, in the mouths of two Good witnesses each word is true; I've a friend, a fine fellow, who, when you desire, Will render on oath what you require. I'll bring him here. _Martha_. O pray, sir, do! _Mephistopheles_. And this young lady 'll be there too? Fine boy! has travelled everywhere, And all politeness to the fair. _Margaret_. Before him shame my face must cover. _Mephistopheles_. Before no king the wide world over! _Martha_. Behind the house, in my garden, at leisure, We'll wait this eve the gentlemen's pleasure. STREET. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust_. How now? What progress? Will 't come right? _Mephistopheles_. Ha, bravo? So you're all on fire? Full soon you'll see whom you desire. In neighbor Martha's grounds we are to meet tonight. That woman's one of nature's picking For pandering and gipsy-tricking! _Faust_. So far, so good! _Mephistopheles_. But one thing we must do. _Faust_. Well, one good turn deserves another, true. _Mephistopheles_. We simply make a solemn deposition That her lord's bones are laid in good condition In holy ground at Padua, hid from view. _Faust_. That's wise! But then we first must make the journey thither? _Mephistopheles. Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such to-do; Just swear, and ask not why or whether. _Faust_. If that's the best you have, the plan's not worth a feather. _Mephistopheles_. O holy man! now that's just you! In all thy life hast never, to this hour, To give false witness taken pains? Have you of God, the world, and all that it contains, Of man, and all that stirs within his heart and brains, Not given definitions with great power, Unscrupulous breast, unblushing brow? And if you search the matter clearly, Knew you as much thereof, to speak sincerely, As of Herr Schwerdtlein's death? Confess it now! _Faust_. Thou always wast a sophist and a liar. _Mephistopheles_. Ay, if one did not look a little nigher. For will you not, in honor, to-morrow Befool poor Margery to her sorrow, And all the oaths of true love borrow? _Faust_. And from the heart, too. _Mephistopheles_. Well and fair! Then there'll be talk of truth unending, Of love o'ermastering, all transcending-- Will every word be heart-born there? _Faust_. Enough! It will!--If, for the passion That fills and thrills my being's frame, I find no name, no fit expression, Then, through the world, with all my senses, ranging, Seek what most strongly speaks the unchanging. And call this glow, within me burning, Infinite--endless--endless yearning, Is that a devilish lying game? _Mephistopheles_. I'm right, nathless! _Faust_. Now, hark to me-- This once, I pray, and spare my lungs, old fellow-- Whoever _will_ be right, and has a tongue to bellow, Is sure to be. But come, enough of swaggering, let's be quit, For thou art right, because I must submit. GARDEN. MARGARET _on_ FAUST'S _arm_. MARTHA _with_ MEPHISTOPHELES. [_Promenading up and down_.] _Margaret_. The gentleman but makes me more confused With all his condescending goodness. Men who have travelled wide are used To bear with much from dread of rudeness; I know too well, a man of so much mind In my poor talk can little pleasure find. _Faust_. One look from thee, one word, delights me more Than this world's wisdom o'er and o'er. [_Kisses her hand_.] _Margaret_. Don't take that trouble, sir! How could you bear to kiss it? A hand so ugly, coarse, and rough! How much I've had to do! must I confess it-- Mother is more than close enough. [_They pass on_.] _Martha_. And you, sir, are you always travelling so? _Mephistopheles_. Alas, that business forces us to do it! With what regret from many a place we go, Though tenderest bonds may bind us to it! _Martha_. 'Twill do in youth's tumultuous maze To wander round the world, a careless rover; But soon will come the evil days, And then, a lone dry stick, on the grave's brink to hover, For that nobody ever prays. _Mephistopheles_. The distant prospect shakes my reason. _Martha_. Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in season. [_They pass on_.] _Margaret_. Yes, out of sight and out of mind! Politeness you find no hard matter; But you have friends in plenty, better Than I, more sensible, more refined. _Faust_. Dear girl, what one calls sensible on earth, Is often vanity and nonsense. _Margaret_. How? _Faust_. Ah, that the pure and simple never know Aught of themselves and all their holy worth! That meekness, lowliness, the highest measure Of gifts by nature lavished, full and free-- _Margaret_. One little moment, only, think of me, I shall to think of you have ample time and leisure. _Faust_. You're, may be, much alone? _Margaret_. Our household is but small, I own, And yet needs care, if truth were known. We have no maid; so I attend to cooking, sweeping, Knit, sew, do every thing, in fact; And mother, in all branches of housekeeping, Is so exact! Not that she need be tied so very closely down; We might stand higher than some others, rather; A nice estate was left us by my father, A house and garden not far out of town. Yet, after all, my life runs pretty quiet; My brother is a soldier, My little sister's dead; With the dear child indeed a wearing life I led; And yet with all its plagues again would gladly try it, The child was such a pet. _Faust_. An angel, if like thee! _Margaret_. I reared her and she heartily loved me. She and my father never saw each other, He died before her birth, and mother Was given up, so low she lay, But me, by slow degrees, recovered, day by day. Of course she now, long time so feeble, To nurse the poor little worm was unable, And so I reared it all alone, With milk and water; 'twas my own. Upon my bosom all day long It smiled and sprawled and so grew strong. _Faust_. Ah! thou hast truly known joy's fairest flower. _Margaret_. But no less truly many a heavy hour. The wee thing's cradle stood at night Close to my bed; did the least thing awake her, My sleep took flight; 'Twas now to nurse her, now in bed to take her, Then, if she was not still, to rise, Walk up and down the room, and dance away her cries, And at the wash-tub stand, when morning streaked the skies; Then came the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day in, day out, work never-ending. One cannot always, sir, good temper keep; But then it sweetens food and sweetens sleep. [_They pass on_.] _Martha_. But the poor women suffer, you must own: A bachelor is hard of reformation. _Mephistopheles_. Madam, it rests with such as you, alone, To help me mend my situation. _Martha_. Speak plainly, sir, has none your fancy taken? Has none made out a tender flame to waken? _Mephistopheles_. The proverb says: A man's own hearth, And a brave wife, all gold and pearls are worth. _Martha_. I mean, has ne'er your heart been smitten slightly? _Mephistopheles_. I have, on every hand, been entertained politely. _Martha_. Have you not felt, I mean, a serious intention? _Mephistopheles_. Jesting with women, that's a thing one ne'er should mention. _Martha_. Ah, you misunderstand! _Mephistopheles_. It grieves me that I should! But this I understand--that you are good. [_They pass on_.] _Faust_. So then, my little angel recognized me, As I came through the garden gate? _Margaret_. Did not my downcast eyes show you surprised me? _Faust_. And thou forgav'st that liberty, of late? That impudence of mine, so daring, As thou wast home from church repairing? _Margaret_. I was confused, the like was new to me; No one could say a word to my dishonor. Ah, thought I, has he, haply, in thy manner Seen any boldness--impropriety? It seemed as if the feeling seized him, That he might treat this girl just as it pleased him. Let me confess! I knew not from what cause, Some flight relentings here began to threaten danger; I know, right angry with myself I was, That I could not be angrier with the stranger. _Faust_. Sweet darling! _Margaret_. Let me once! [_She plucks a china-aster and picks off the leaves one after another_.] _Faust_. What's that for? A bouquet? _Margaret_. No, just for sport. _Faust_. How? _Margaret_. Go! you'll laugh at me; away! [_She picks and murmurs to herself_.] _Faust_. What murmurest thou? _Margaret [half aloud_]. He loves me--loves me not. _Faust_. Sweet face! from heaven that look was caught! _Margaret [goes on_]. Loves me--not--loves me--not-- [_picking off the last leaf with tender joy_] He loves me! _Faust_. Yes, my child! And be this floral word An oracle to thee. He loves thee! Knowest thou all it mean? He loves thee! [_Clasping both her hands_.] _Margaret_. What thrill is this! _Faust_. O, shudder not! This look of mine. This pressure of the hand shall tell thee What cannot be expressed: Give thyself up at once and feel a rapture, An ecstasy never to end! Never!--It's end were nothing but blank despair. No, unending! unending! [MARGARET _presses his hands, extricates herself, and runs away. He stands a moment in thought, then follows her_]. _Martha [coming_]. The night falls fast. _Mephistopheles_. Ay, and we must away. _Martha_. If it were not for one vexation, I would insist upon your longer stay. Nobody seems to have no occupation, No care nor labor, Except to play the spy upon his neighbor; And one becomes town-talk, do whatsoe'er they may. But where's our pair of doves? _Mephistopheles_. Flown up the alley yonder. Light summer-birds! _Martha_. He seems attached to her. _Mephistopheles_. No wonder. And she to him. So goes the world, they say. A SUMMER-HOUSE. MARGARET [_darts in, hides behind the door, presses the tip of her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_]. _Margaret_. He comes! _Enter_ FAUST. _Faust_. Ah rogue, how sly thou art! I've caught thee! [_Kisses her_.] _Margaret [embracing him and returning the kiss_]. Dear good man! I love thee from my heart! [MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_.] _Faust [stamping_]. Who's there? _Mephistopheles_. A friend! _Faust_. A beast! _Mephistopheles_. Time flies, I don't offend you? _Martha [entering_]. Yes, sir, 'tis growing late. _Faust_. May I not now attend you? _Margaret_. Mother would--Fare thee well! _Faust_. And must I leave thee then? Farewell! _Martha_. Adé! _Margaret_. Till, soon, we meet again! [_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES.] _Margaret_. Good heavens! what such a man's one brain Can in itself alone contain! I blush my rudeness to confess, And answer all he says with yes. Am a poor, ignorant child, don't see What he can possibly find in me. [_Exit_.] WOODS AND CAVERN. _Faust_ [_alone_]. Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all For which I prayed. Thou didst not lift in vain Thy face upon me in a flame of fire. Gav'st me majestic nature for a realm, The power to feel, enjoy her. Not alone A freezing, formal visit didst thou grant; Deep down into her breast invitedst me To look, as if she were a bosom-friend. The series of animated things Thou bidst pass by me, teaching me to know My brothers in the waters, woods, and air. And when the storm-swept forest creaks and groans, The giant pine-tree crashes, rending off The neighboring boughs and limbs, and with deep roar The thundering mountain echoes to its fall, To a safe cavern then thou leadest me, Showst me myself; and my own bosom's deep Mysterious wonders open on my view. And when before my sight the moon comes up With soft effulgence; from the walls of rock, From the damp thicket, slowly float around The silvery shadows of a world gone by, And temper meditation's sterner joy. O! nothing perfect is vouchsafed to man: I feel it now! Attendant on this bliss, Which brings me ever nearer to the Gods, Thou gav'st me the companion, whom I now No more can spare, though cold and insolent; He makes me hate, despise myself, and turns Thy gifts to nothing with a word--a breath. He kindles up a wild-fire in my breast, Of restless longing for that lovely form. Thus from desire I hurry to enjoyment, And in enjoyment languish for desire. _Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mephistopheles_. Will not this life have tired you by and bye? I wonder it so long delights you? 'Tis well enough for once the thing to try; Then off to where a new invites you! _Faust_. Would thou hadst something else to do, That thus to spoil my joy thou burnest. _Mephistopheles_. Well! well! I'll leave thee, gladly too!-- Thou dar'st not tell me that in earnest! 'Twere no great loss, a fellow such as you, So crazy, snappish, and uncivil. One has, all day, his hands full, and more too; To worm out from him what he'd have one do, Or not do, puzzles e'en the very devil. _Faust_. Now, that I like! That's just the tone! Wants thanks for boring me till I'm half dead! _Mephistopheles_. Poor son of earth, if left alone, What sort of life wouldst thou have led? How oft, by methods all my own, I've chased the cobweb fancies from thy head! And but for me, to parts unknown Thou from this earth hadst long since fled. What dost thou here through cave and crevice groping? Why like a hornèd owl sit moping? And why from dripping stone, damp moss, and rotten wood Here, like a toad, suck in thy food? Delicious pastime! Ah, I see, Somewhat of Doctor sticks to thee. _Faust_. What new life-power it gives me, canst thou guess-- This conversation with the wilderness? Ay, couldst thou dream how sweet the employment, Thou wouldst be devil enough to grudge me my enjoyment. _Mephistopheles_. Ay, joy from super-earthly fountains! By night and day to lie upon the mountains, To clasp in ecstasy both earth and heaven, Swelled to a deity by fancy's leaven, Pierce, like a nervous thrill, earth's very marrow, Feel the whole six days' work for thee too narrow, To enjoy, I know not what, in blest elation, Then with thy lavish love o'erflow the whole creation. Below thy sight the mortal cast, And to the glorious vision give at last-- [_with a gesture_] I must not say what termination! _Faust_. Shame on thee! _Mephistopheles_. This displeases thee; well, surely, Thou hast a right to say "for shame" demurely. One must not mention that to chaste ears--never, Which chaste hearts cannot do without, however. And, in one word, I grudge you not the pleasure Of lying to yourself in moderate measure; But 'twill not hold out long, I know; Already thou art fast recoiling, And soon, at this rate, wilt be boiling With madness or despair and woe. Enough of this! Thy sweetheart sits there lonely, And all to her is close and drear. Her thoughts are on thy image only, She holds thee, past all utterance, dear. At first thy passion came bounding and rushing Like a brooklet o'erflowing with melted snow and rain; Into her heart thou hast poured it gushing: And now thy brooklet's dry again. Methinks, thy woodland throne resigning, 'Twould better suit so great a lord The poor young monkey to reward For all the love with which she's pining. She finds the time dismally long; Stands at the window, sees the clouds on high Over the old town-wall go by. "Were I a little bird!"[26] so runneth her song All the day, half the night long. At times she'll be laughing, seldom smile, At times wept-out she'll seem, Then again tranquil, you'd deem,-- Lovesick all the while. _Faust_. Viper! Viper! _Mephistopheles_ [_aside_]. Ay! and the prey grows riper! _Faust_. Reprobate! take thee far behind me! No more that lovely woman name! Bid not desire for her sweet person flame Through each half-maddened sense, again to blind me! _Mephistopheles_. What then's to do? She fancies thou hast flown, And more than half she's right, I own. _Faust_. I'm near her, and, though far away, my word, I'd not forget her, lose her; never fear it! I envy e'en the body of the Lord, Oft as those precious lips of hers draw near it. _Mephistopheles_. No doubt; and oft my envious thought reposes On the twin-pair that feed among the roses. _Faust_. Out, pimp! _Mephistopheles_. Well done! Your jeers I find fair game for laughter. The God, who made both lad and lass, Unwilling for a bungling hand to pass, Made opportunity right after. But come! fine cause for lamentation! Her chamber is your destination, And not the grave, I guess. _Faust_. What are the joys of heaven while her fond arms enfold me? O let her kindling bosom hold me! Feel I not always her distress? The houseless am I not? the unbefriended? The monster without aim or rest? That, like a cataract, from rock to rock descended To the abyss, with maddening greed possest: She, on its brink, with childlike thoughts and lowly,-- Perched on the little Alpine field her cot,-- This narrow world, so still and holy Ensphering, like a heaven, her lot. And I, God's hatred daring, Could not be content The rocks all headlong bearing, By me to ruins rent,-- Her, yea her peace, must I o'erwhelm and bury! This victim, hell, to thee was necessary! Help me, thou fiend, the pang soon ending! What must be, let it quickly be! And let her fate upon my head descending, Crush, at one blow, both her and me. _Mephistopheles_. Ha! how it seethes again and glows! Go in and comfort her, thou dunce! Where such a dolt no outlet sees or knows, He thinks he's reached the end at once. None but the brave deserve the fair! Thou _hast_ had devil enough to make a decent show of. For all the world a devil in despair Is just the insipidest thing I know of. MARGERY'S ROOM. MARGERY [_at the spinning-wheel alone_]. My heart is heavy, My peace is o'er; I never--ah! never-- Shall find it more. While him I crave, Each place is the grave, The world is all Turned into gall. My wretched brain Has lost its wits, My wretched sense Is all in bits. My heart is heavy, My peace is o'er; I never--ah! never-- Shall find it more. Him only to greet, I The street look down, Him only to meet, I Roam through town. His lofty step, His noble height, His smile of sweetness, His eye of might, His words of magic, Breathing bliss, His hand's warm pressure And ah! his kiss. My heart is heavy, My peace is o'er, I never--ah! never-- Shall find it more. My bosom yearns To behold him again. Ah, could I find him That best of men! I'd tell him then How I did miss him, And kiss him As much as I could, Die on his kisses I surely should! MARTHA'S GARDEN. MARGARET. FAUST. _Margaret_. Promise me, Henry. _Faust_. What I can. _Margaret_. How is it now with thy religion, say? I know thou art a dear good man, But fear thy thoughts do not run much that way. _Faust_. Leave that, my child! Enough, thou hast my heart; For those I love with life I'd freely part; I would not harm a soul, nor of its faith bereave it. _Margaret_. That's wrong, there's one true faith--one must believe it? _Faust_. Must one? _Margaret_. Ah, could I influence thee, dearest! The holy sacraments thou scarce reverest. _Faust_. I honor them. _Margaret_. But yet without desire. Of mass and confession both thou'st long begun to tire. Believest thou in God? _Faust_. My. darling, who engages To say, I do believe in God? The question put to priests or sages: Their answer seems as if it sought To mock the asker. _Margaret_. Then believ'st thou not? _Faust_. Sweet face, do not misunderstand my thought! Who dares express him? And who confess him, Saying, I do believe? A man's heart bearing, What man has the daring To say: I acknowledge him not? The All-enfolder, The All-upholder, Enfolds, upholds He not Thee, me, Himself? Upsprings not Heaven's blue arch high o'er thee? Underneath thee does not earth stand fast? See'st thou not, nightly climbing, Tenderly glancing eternal stars? Am I not gazing eye to eye on thee? Through brain and bosom Throngs not all life to thee, Weaving in everlasting mystery Obscurely, clearly, on all sides of thee? Fill with it, to its utmost stretch, thy breast, And in the consciousness when thou art wholly blest, Then call it what thou wilt, Joy! Heart! Love! God! I have no name to give it! All comes at last to feeling; Name is but sound and smoke, Beclouding Heaven's warm glow. _Margaret_. That is all fine and good, I know; And just as the priest has often spoke, Only with somewhat different phrases. _Faust_. All hearts, too, in all places, Wherever Heaven pours down the day's broad blessing, Each in its way the truth is confessing; And why not I in mine, too? _Margaret_. Well, all have a way that they incline to, But still there is something wrong with thee; Thou hast no Christianity. _Faust_. Dear child! _Margaret_. It long has troubled me That thou shouldst keep such company. _Faust_. How so? _Margaret_. The man whom thou for crony hast, Is one whom I with all my soul detest. Nothing in all my life has ever Stirred up in my heart such a deep disfavor As the ugly face that man has got. _Faust_. Sweet plaything; fear him not! _Margaret_. His presence stirs my blood, I own. I can love almost all men I've ever known; But much as thy presence with pleasure thrills me, That man with a secret horror fills me. And then for a knave I've suspected him long! God pardon me, if I do him wrong! _Faust_. To make up a world such odd sticks are needed. _Margaret_. Shouldn't like to live in the house where he did! Whenever I see him coming in, He always wears such a mocking grin. Half cold, half grim; One sees, that naught has interest for him; 'Tis writ on his brow and can't be mistaken, No soul in him can love awaken. I feel in thy arms so happy, so free, I yield myself up so blissfully, He comes, and all in me is closed and frozen now. _Faust_. Ah, thou mistrustful angel, thou! _Margaret_. This weighs on me so sore, That when we meet, and he is by me, I feel, as if I loved thee now no more. Nor could I ever pray, if he were nigh me, That eats the very heart in me; Henry, it must be so with thee. _Faust_. 'Tis an antipathy of thine! _Margaret_. Farewell! _Faust_. Ah, can I ne'er recline One little hour upon thy bosom, pressing My heart to thine and all my soul confessing? _Margaret_. Ah, if my chamber were alone, This night the bolt should give thee free admission; But mother wakes at every tone, And if she had the least suspicion, Heavens! I should die upon the spot! _Faust_. Thou angel, need of that there's not. Here is a flask! Three drops alone Mix with her drink, and nature Into a deep and pleasant sleep is thrown. _Margaret_. Refuse thee, what can I, poor creature? I hope, of course, it will not harm her! _Faust_. Would I advise it then, my charmer? _Margaret_. Best man, when thou dost look at me, I know not what, moves me to do thy will; I have already done so much for thee, Scarce any thing seems left me to fulfil. [_Exit_.] Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mephtftopheles_. The monkey! is she gone? _Faust_. Hast played the spy again? _Mephistopheles_. I overheard it all quite fully. The Doctor has been well catechized then? Hope it will sit well on him truly. The maidens won't rest till they know if the men Believe as good old custom bids them do. They think: if there he yields, he'll follow our will too. _Faust_. Monster, thou wilt not, canst not see, How this true soul that loves so dearly, Yet hugs, at every cost, The faith which she Counts Heaven itself, is horror-struck sincerely To think of giving up her dearest man for lost. _Mephistopheles_. Thou supersensual, sensual wooer, A girl by the nose is leading thee. _Faust_. Abortion vile of fire and sewer! _Mephistopheles_. In physiognomy, too, her skill is masterly. When I am near she feels she knows not how, My little mask some secret meaning shows; She thinks, I'm certainly a genius, now, Perhaps the very devil--who knows? To-night then?-- _Faust_. Well, what's that to you? _Mephistopheles_. I find my pleasure in it, too! AT THE WELL. MARGERY _and_ LIZZY _with Pitchers._ _Lizzy_. Hast heard no news of Barbara to-day? _Margery_. No, not a word. I've not been out much lately. _Lizzy_. It came to me through Sybill very straightly. She's made a fool of herself at last, they say. That comes of taking airs! _Margery_. What meanst thou? _Lizzy_. Pah! She daily eats and drinks for two now. _Margery_. Ah! _Lizzy_. It serves the jade right for being so callow. How long she's been hanging upon the fellow! Such a promenading! To fair and dance parading! Everywhere as first she must shine, He was treating her always with tarts and wine; She began to think herself something fine, And let her vanity so degrade her That she even accepted the presents he made her. There was hugging and smacking, and so it went on-- And lo! and behold! the flower is gone! _Margery_. Poor thing! _Lizzy_. Canst any pity for her feel! When such as we spun at the wheel, Our mothers kept us in-doors after dark; While she stood cozy with her spark, Or sate on the door-bench, or sauntered round, And never an hour too long they found. But now her pride may let itself down, To do penance at church in the sinner's gown! _Margery_. He'll certainly take her for his wife. _Lizzy_. He'd be a fool! A spruce young blade Has room enough to ply his trade. Besides, he's gone. _Margery_. Now, that's not fair! _Lizzy_. If she gets him, her lot'll be hard to bear. The boys will tear up her wreath, and what's more, We'll strew chopped straw before her door. [_Exit._] _Margery [going home]_. Time was when I, too, instead of bewailing, Could boldly jeer at a poor girl's failing! When my scorn could scarcely find expression At hearing of another's transgression! How black it seemed! though black as could be, It never was black enough for me. I blessed my soul, and felt so high, And now, myself, in sin I lie! Yet--all that led me to it, sure, O God! it was so dear, so pure! DONJON.[27] [_In a niche a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa, before it pots of flowers._] MARGERY [_puts fresh flowers into the pots_]. Ah, hear me, Draw kindly near me, Mother of sorrows, heal my woe! Sword-pierced, and stricken With pangs that sicken, Thou seest thy son's last life-blood flow! Thy look--thy sighing--- To God are crying, Charged with a son's and mother's woe! Sad mother! What other Knows the pangs that eat me to the bone? What within my poor heart burneth, How it trembleth, how it yearneth, Thou canst feel and thou alone! Go where I will, I never Find peace or hope--forever Woe, woe and misery! Alone, when all are sleeping, I'm weeping, weeping, weeping, My heart is crushed in me. The pots before my window, In the early morning-hours, Alas, my tears bedewed them, As I plucked for thee these flowers, When the bright sun good morrow In at my window said, Already, in my anguish, I sate there in my bed. From shame and death redeem me, oh! Draw near me, And, pitying, hear me, Mother of sorrows, heal my woe! NIGHT. _Street before_ MARGERY'S _Door._ VALENTINE [_soldier,_ MARGERY'S _brother_]. When at the mess I used to sit, Where many a one will show his wit, And heard my comrades one and all The flower of the sex extol, Drowning their praise with bumpers high, Leaning upon my elbows, I Would hear the braggadocios through, And then, when it came my turn, too, Would stroke my beard and, smiling, say, A brimming bumper in my hand: All very decent in their way! But is there one, in all the land, With my sweet Margy to compare, A candle to hold to my sister fair? Bravo! Kling! Klang! it echoed round! One party cried: 'tis truth he speaks, She is the jewel of the sex! And the braggarts all in silence were bound. And now!--one could pull out his hair with vexation, And run up the walls for mortification!-- Every two-legged creature that goes in breeches Can mock me with sneers and stinging speeches! And I like a guilty debtor sitting, For fear of each casual word am sweating! And though I could smash them in my ire, I dare not call a soul of them liar. What's that comes yonder, sneaking along? There are two of them there, if I see not wrong. Is't he, I'll give him a dose that'll cure him, He'll not leave the spot alive, I assure him! FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust_. How from yon window of the sacristy The ever-burning lamp sends up its glimmer, And round the edge grows ever dimmer, Till in the gloom its flickerings die! So in my bosom all is nightlike. _Mephistopheles_. A starving tom-cat I feel quite like, That o'er the fire ladders crawls Then softly creeps, ground the walls. My aim's quite virtuous ne'ertheless, A bit of thievish lust, a bit of wantonness. I feel it all my members haunting-- The glorious Walpurgis night. One day--then comes the feast enchanting That shall all pinings well requite. _Faust_. Meanwhile can that the casket be, I wonder, I see behind rise glittering yonder.[28] _Mephistopheles_. Yes, and thou soon shalt have the pleasure Of lifting out the precious treasure. I lately 'neath the lid did squint, Has piles of lion-dollars[29] in't. _Faust_. But not a jewel? Not a ring? To deck my mistress not a trinket? _Mephistopheles_. I caught a glimpse of some such thing, Sort of pearl bracelet I should think it. _Faust_. That's well! I always like to bear Some present when I visit my fair. _Mephistopheles_. You should not murmur if your fate is, To have a bit of pleasure gratis. Now, as the stars fill heaven with their bright throng, List a fine piece, artistic purely: I sing her here a moral song, To make a fool of her more surely. [_Sings to the guitar_.][30] What dost thou here, Katrina dear, At daybreak drear, Before thy lover's chamber? Give o'er, give o'er! The maid his door Lets in, no more Goes out a maid--remember! Take heed! take heed! Once done, the deed Ye'll rue with speed-- And then--good night--poor thing--a! Though ne'er so fair His speech, beware, Until you bear His ring upon your finger. _Valentine_ [_comes forward_]. Whom lur'ft thou here? what prey dost scent? Rat-catching[81] offspring of perdition! To hell goes first the instrument! To hell then follows the musician! _Mephistopheles_. He 's broken the guitar! to music, then, good-bye, now. _Valentine_. A game of cracking skulls we'll try now! _Mephistopbeles_ [_to Faust_]. Never you flinch, Sir Doctor! Brisk! Mind every word I say---be wary! Stand close by me, out with your whisk! Thrust home upon the churl! I'll parry. _Valentine_. Then parry that! _Mephistopheles_. Be sure. Why not? _Valentine_. And that! _Mephistopheles_. With ease! _Valentine_. The devil's aid he's got! But what is this? My hand's already lame. _Mephistopheles_ [_to Faust_]. Thrust home! _Valentine_ [_falls_]. O woe! _Mephistopheles_. Now is the lubber tame! But come! We must be off. I hear a clatter; And cries of murder, too, that fast increase. I'm an old hand to manage the police, But then the penal court's another matter. _Martha_. Come out! Come out! _Margery_ [_at the window_]. Bring on a light! _Martha_ [_as above_]. They swear and scuffle, scream and fight. _People_. There's one, has got's death-blow! _Martha_ [_coming out_]. Where are the murderers, have they flown? _Margery_ [_coming out_]. Who's lying here? _People_. Thy mother's son. _Margery_. Almighty God! What woe! _Valentine_. I'm dying! that is quickly said, And even quicklier done. Women! Why howl, as if half-dead? Come, hear me, every one! [_All gather round him_.] My Margery, look! Young art thou still, But managest thy matters ill, Hast not learned out yet quite. I say in confidence--think it o'er: Thou art just once for all a whore; Why, be one, then, outright. _Margery_. My brother! God! What words to me! _Valentine_. In this game let our Lord God be! That which is done, alas! is done. And every thing its course will run. With one you secretly begin, Presently more of them come in, And when a dozen share in thee, Thou art the whole town's property. When shame is born to this world of sorrow, The birth is carefully hid from sight, And the mysterious veil of night To cover her head they borrow; Yes, they would gladly stifle the wearer; But as she grows and holds herself high, She walks uncovered in day's broad eye, Though she has not become a whit fairer. The uglier her face to sight, The more she courts the noonday light. Already I the time can see When all good souls shall shrink from thee, Thou prostitute, when thou go'st by them, As if a tainted corpse were nigh them. Thy heart within thy breast shall quake then, When they look thee in the face. Shalt wear no gold chain more on thy neck then! Shalt stand no more in the holy place! No pleasure in point-lace collars take then, Nor for the dance thy person deck then! But into some dark corner gliding, 'Mong beggars and cripples wilt be hiding; And even should God thy sin forgive, Wilt be curs'd on earth while thou shalt live! _Martha_. Your soul to the mercy of God surrender! Will you add to your load the sin of slander? _Valentine_. Could I get at thy dried-up frame, Vile bawd, so lost to all sense of shame! Then might I hope, e'en this side Heaven, Richly to find my sins forgiven. _Margery_. My brother! This is hell to me! _Valentine_. I tell thee, let these weak tears be! When thy last hold of honor broke, Thou gav'st my heart the heaviest stroke. I'm going home now through the grave To God, a soldier and a brave. [_Dies_.] CATHEDRAL. _Service, Organ, and Singing._ [MARGERY _amidst a crowd of people._ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_ MARGERY.] _Evil Spirit_. How different was it with thee, Margy, When, innocent and artless, Thou cam'st here to the altar, From the well-thumbed little prayer-book, Petitions lisping, Half full of child's play, Half full of Heaven! Margy! Where are thy thoughts? What crime is buried Deep within thy heart? Prayest thou haply for thy mother, who Slept over into long, long pain, on thy account? Whose blood upon thy threshold lies? --And stirs there not, already Beneath thy heart a life Tormenting itself and thee With bodings of its coming hour? _Margery_. Woe! Woe! Could I rid me of the thoughts, Still through my brain backward and forward flitting, Against my will! _Chorus_. Dies irae, dies illa Solvet saeclum in favillâ. [_Organ plays_.] _Evil Spirit_. Wrath smites thee! Hark! the trumpet sounds! The graves are trembling! And thy heart, Made o'er again For fiery torments, Waking from its ashes Starts up! _Margery_. Would I were hence! I feel as if the organ's peal My breath were stifling, The choral chant My heart were melting. _Chorus_. Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet apparebit. Nil inultum remanebit. _Margery_. How cramped it feels! The walls and pillars Imprison me! And the arches Crush me!--Air! _Evil Spirit_. What! hide thee! sin and shame Will not be hidden! Air? Light? Woe's thee! _Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus? Cum vix justus sit securus. _Evil Spirit_. They turn their faces, The glorified, from thee. To take thy hand, the pure ones Shudder with horror. Woe! _Chorus_. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? _Margery_. Neighbor! your phial!-- [_She swoons._] WALPURGIS NIGHT.[32] _Harz Mountains._ _District of Schirke and Elend._ FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mephistopheles_. Wouldst thou not like a broomstick, now, to ride on? At this rate we are, still, a long way off; I'd rather have a good tough goat, by half, Than the best legs a man e'er set his pride on. _Faust_. So long as I've a pair of good fresh legs to stride on, Enough for me this knotty staff. What use of shortening the way! Following the valley's labyrinthine winding, Then up this rock a pathway finding, From which the spring leaps down in bubbling play, That is what spices such a walk, I say! Spring through the birch-tree's veins is flowing, The very pine is feeling it; Should not its influence set our limbs a-glowing? _Mephistopheles_. I do not feel it, not a bit! My wintry blood runs very slowly; I wish my path were filled with frost and snow. The moon's imperfect disk, how melancholy It rises there with red, belated glow, And shines so badly, turn where'er one can turn, At every step he hits a rock or tree! With leave I'll beg a Jack-o'lantern! I see one yonder burning merrily. Heigh, there! my friend! May I thy aid desire? Why waste at such a rate thy fire? Come, light us up yon path, good fellow, pray! _Jack-o'lantern_. Out of respect, I hope I shall be able To rein a nature quite unstable; We usually take a zigzag way. _Mephistopheles_. Heigh! heigh! He thinks man's crooked course to travel. Go straight ahead, or, by the devil, I'll blow your flickering life out with a puff. _Jack-o'lantern_. You're master of the house, that's plain enough, So I'll comply with your desire. But see! The mountain's magic-mad to-night, And if your guide's to be a Jack-o'lantern's light, Strict rectitude you'll scarce require. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, JACK-O'LANTERN, _in alternate song_. Spheres of magic, dream, and vision, Now, it seems, are opening o'er us. For thy credit, use precision! Let the way be plain before us Through the lengthening desert regions. See how trees on trees, in legions, Hurrying by us, change their places, And the bowing crags make faces, And the rocks, long noses showing, Hear them snoring, hear them blowing![33] Down through stones, through mosses flowing, See the brook and brooklet springing. Hear I rustling? hear I singing? Love-plaints, sweet and melancholy, Voices of those days so holy? All our loving, longing, yearning? Echo, like a strain returning From the olden times, is ringing. Uhu! Schuhu! Tu-whit! Tu-whit! Are the jay, and owl, and pewit All awake and loudly calling? What goes through the bushes yonder? Can it be the Salamander-- Belly thick and legs a-sprawling? Roots and fibres, snake-like, crawling, Out from rocky, sandy places, Wheresoe'er we turn our faces, Stretch enormous fingers round us, Here to catch us, there confound us; Thick, black knars to life are starting, Polypusses'-feelers darting At the traveller. Field-mice, swarming, Thousand-colored armies forming, Scamper on through moss and heather! And the glow-worms, in the darkling, With their crowded escort sparkling, Would confound us altogether. But to guess I'm vainly trying-- Are we stopping? are we hieing? Round and round us all seems flying, Rocks and trees, that make grimaces, And the mist-lights of the places Ever swelling, multiplying. _Mephistopheles_. Here's my coat-tail--tightly thumb it! We have reached a middle summit, Whence one stares to see how shines Mammon in the mountain-mines. _Faust_. How strangely through the dim recesses A dreary dawning seems to glow! And even down the deep abysses Its melancholy quiverings throw! Here smoke is boiling, mist exhaling; Here from a vapory veil it gleams, Then, a fine thread of light, goes trailing, Then gushes up in fiery streams. The valley, here, you see it follow, One mighty flood, with hundred rills, And here, pent up in some deep hollow, It breaks on all sides down the hills. Here, spark-showers, darting up before us, Like golden sand-clouds rise and fall. But yonder see how blazes o'er us, All up and down, the rocky wall! _Mephistopheles_. Has not Sir Mammon gloriously lighted His palace for this festive night? Count thyself lucky for the sight: I catch e'en now a glimpse of noisy guests invited. _Faust_. How the mad tempest[34] sweeps the air! On cheek and neck the wind-gusts how they flout me. _Mephistopheles_. Must seize the rock's old ribs and hold on stoutly! Else will they hurl thee down the dark abysses there. A mist-rain thickens the gloom. Hark, how the forests crash and boom! Out fly the owls in dread and wonder; Splitting their columns asunder, Hear it, the evergreen palaces shaking! Boughs are twisting and breaking! Of stems what a grinding and moaning! Of roots what a creaking and groaning! In frightful confusion, headlong tumbling, They fall, with a sound of thunder rumbling, And, through the wreck-piled ravines and abysses, The tempest howls and hisses. Hearst thou voices high up o'er us? Close around us--far before us? Through the mountain, all along, Swells a torrent of magic song. _Witches_ [_in chorus_]. The witches go to the Brocken's top, The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. They gather there at the well-known call, Sir Urian[85] sits at the head of all. Then on we go o'er stone and stock: The witch, she--and--the buck. _Voice_. Old Baubo comes along, I vow! She rides upon a farrow-sow. _Chorus_. Then honor to whom honor's due! Ma'am Baubo ahead! and lead the crew! A good fat sow, and ma'am on her back, Then follow the witches all in a pack. _Voice_. Which way didst thou come? _Voice_. By the Ilsenstein! Peeped into an owl's nest, mother of mine! What a pair of eyes! _Voice_. To hell with your flurry! Why ride in such hurry! _Voice_. The hag be confounded! My skin flie has wounded! _Witches_ [_chorus]._ The way is broad, the way is long, What means this noisy, crazy throng? The broom it scratches, the fork it flicks, The child is stifled, the mother breaks. _Wizards_ [_semi-chorus_]. Like housed-up snails we're creeping on, The women all ahead are gone. When to the Bad One's house we go, She gains a thousand steps, you know. _The other half_. We take it not precisely so; What she in thousand steps can go, Make all the haste she ever can, 'Tis done in just one leap by man. _Voice_ [_above_]. Come on, come on, from Felsensee! _Voices_ [_from below_]. We'd gladly join your airy way. For wash and clean us as much as we will, We always prove unfruitful still. _Both chorusses_. The wind is hushed, the star shoots by, The moon she hides her sickly eye. The whirling, whizzing magic-choir Darts forth ten thousand sparks of fire. _Voice_ [_from below_]. Ho, there! whoa, there! _Voice_ [_from above_]. Who calls from the rocky cleft below there? _Voice_ [_below_]. Take me too! take me too! Three hundred years I've climbed to you, Seeking in vain my mates to come at, For I can never reach the summit. _Both chorusses_. Can ride the besom, the stick can ride, Can stride the pitchfork, the goat can stride; Who neither will ride to-night, nor can, Must be forever a ruined man. _Half-witch_ [_below_]. I hobble on--I'm out of wind-- And still they leave me far behind! To find peace here in vain I come, I get no more than I left at home. _Chorus of witches_. The witch's salve can never fail, A rag will answer for a sail, Any trough will do for a ship, that's tight; He'll never fly who flies not to-night. _Both chorusses_. And when the highest peak we round, Then lightly graze along the ground, And cover the heath, where eye can see, With the flower of witch-errantry. [_They alight_.] _Mephistopheles._ What squeezing and pushing, what rustling and hustling! What hissing and twirling, what chattering and bustling! How it shines and sparkles and burns and stinks! A true witch-element, methinks! Keep close! or we are parted in two winks. Where art thou? _Faust_ [_in the distance_]. Here! _Mephistopheles_. What! carried off already? Then I must use my house-right.--Steady! Room! Squire Voland[36] comes. Sweet people, Clear the ground! Here, Doctor, grasp my arm! and, at a single bound; Let us escape, while yet 'tis easy; E'en for the like of me they're far too crazy. See! yonder, something shines with quite peculiar glare, And draws me to those bushes mazy. Come! come! and let us slip in there. _Faust_. All-contradicting sprite! To follow thee I'm fated. But I must say, thy plan was very bright! We seek the Brocken here, on the Walpurgis night, Then hold ourselves, when here, completely isolated! _Mephistopheles_. What motley flames light up the heather! A merry club is met together, In a small group one's not alone. _Faust_. I'd rather be up there, I own! See! curling smoke and flames right blue! To see the Evil One they travel; There many a riddle to unravel. _Mephistopheles_. And tie up many another, too. Let the great world there rave and riot, We here will house ourselves in quiet. The saying has been long well known: In the great world one makes a small one of his own. I see young witches there quite naked all, And old ones who, more prudent, cover. For my sake some flight things look over; The fun is great, the trouble small. I hear them tuning instruments! Curs'd jangle! Well! one must learn with such things not to wrangle. Come on! Come on! For so it needs must be, Thou shalt at once be introduced by me. And I new thanks from thee be earning. That is no scanty space; what sayst thou, friend? Just take a look! thou scarce canst see the end. There, in a row, a hundred fires are burning; They dance, chat, cook, drink, love; where can be found Any thing better, now, the wide world round? _Faust_. Wilt thou, as things are now in this condition, Present thyself for devil, or magician? _Mephistopheles_. I've been much used, indeed, to going incognito; But then, on gala-day, one will his order show. No garter makes my rank appear, But then the cloven foot stands high in honor here. Seest thou the snail? Look there! where she comes creeping yonder! Had she already smelt the rat, I should not very greatly wonder. Disguise is useless now, depend on that. Come, then! we will from fire to fire wander, Thou shalt the wooer be and I the pander. [_To a party who sit round expiring embers_.] Old gentlemen, you scarce can hear the fiddle! You'd gain more praise from me, ensconced there in the middle, 'Mongst that young rousing, tousing set. One can, at home, enough retirement get. _General_. Trust not the people's fickle favor! However much thou mayst for them have done. Nations, as well as women, ever, Worship the rising, not the setting sun. _Minister_. From the right path we've drifted far away, The good old past my heart engages; Those were the real golden ages, When such as we held all the sway. _Parvenu_. We were no simpletons, I trow, And often did the thing we should not; But all is turning topsy-turvy now, And if we tried to stem the wave, we could not. _Author_. Who on the whole will read a work today, Of moderate sense, with any pleasure? And as regards the dear young people, they Pert and precocious are beyond all measure. _Mephistopheles_ [_who all at once appears very old_]. The race is ripened for the judgment day: So I, for the last time, climb the witch-mountain, thinking, And, as my cask runs thick, I say, The world, too, on its lees is sinking. _Witch-broker_. Good gentlemen, don't hurry by! The opportunity's a rare one! My stock is an uncommon fair one, Please give it an attentive eye. There's nothing in my shop, whatever, But on the earth its mate is found; That has not proved itself right clever To deal mankind some fatal wound. No dagger here, but blood has some time stained it; No cup, that has not held some hot and poisonous juice, And stung to death the throat that drained it; No trinket, but did once a maid seduce; No sword, but hath some tie of sacred honor riven, Or haply from behind through foeman's neck been driven. _Mephistopheles_. You're quite behind the times, I tell you, Aunty! By-gones be by-gones! done is done! Get us up something new and jaunty! For new things now the people run. _Faust_. To keep my wits I must endeavor! Call this a fair! I swear, I never--! _Mephistopheles_. Upward the billowy mass is moving; You're shoved along and think, meanwhile, you're shoving. _Faust_. What woman's that? _Mephistopheles_. Mark her attentively. That's Lilith.[37] _Faust_. Who? _Mephistopbeles_. Adam's first wife is she. Beware of her one charm, those lovely tresses, In which she shines preeminently fair. When those soft meshes once a young man snare, How hard 'twill be to escape he little guesses. _Faust_. There sit an old one and a young together; They've skipped it well along the heather! _Mephistopheles_. No rest from that till night is through. Another dance is up; come on! let us fall to. _Faust_ [_dancing with the young one_]. A lovely dream once came to me; In it I saw an apple-tree; Two beauteous apples beckoned there, I climbed to pluck the fruit so fair. _The Fair one_. Apples you greatly seem to prize, And did so even in Paradise. I feel myself delighted much That in my garden I have such. _Mephistopheles_ [_with the old hag_]. A dismal dream once came to me; In it I saw a cloven tree, It had a ------ but still, I looked on it with right good-will. _The Hog_. With best respect I here salute The noble knight of the cloven foot! Let him hold a ------ near, If a ------ he does not fear. _Proctophantasmist_.[38] What's this ye undertake? Confounded crew! Have we not giv'n you demonstration? No spirit stands on legs in all creation, And here you dance just as we mortals do! _The Fair one_ [_dancing_]. What does that fellow at our ball? _Faust_ [_dancing_]. Eh! he must have a hand in all. What others dance that he appraises. Unless each step he criticizes, The step as good as no step he will call. But when we move ahead, that plagues him more than all. If in a circle you would still keep turning, As he himself in his old mill goes round, He would be sure to call that sound! And most so, if you went by his superior learning. _Proctophantasmist_. What, and you still are here! Unheard off obstinates! Begone! We've cleared it up! You shallow pates! The devilish pack from rules deliverance boasts. We've grown so wise, and Tegel[39] still sees ghosts. How long I've toiled to sweep these cobwebs from the brain, And yet--unheard of folly! all in vain. _The Fair one_. And yet on us the stupid bore still tries it! _Proctophantasmist_. I tell you spirits, to the face, I give to spirit-tyranny no place, My spirit cannot exercise it. [_They dance on_.] I can't succeed to-day, I know it; Still, there's the journey, which I like to make, And hope, before the final step I take, To rid the world of devil and of poet. _Mephistopheles_. You'll see him shortly sit into a puddle, In that way his heart is reassured; When on his rump the leeches well shall fuddle, Of spirits and of spirit he'll be cured. [_To_ FAUST, _who has left the dance_.] Why let the lovely girl slip through thy fingers, Who to thy dance so sweetly sang? _Faust_. Ah, right amidst her singing, sprang A wee red mouse from her mouth and made me cower. _Mephistopheles_. That's nothing wrong! You're in a dainty way; Enough, the mouse at least wan't gray. Who minds such thing in happy amorous hour? _Faust_. Then saw I-- _Mephistopheles_. What? _Faust_. Mephisto, seest thou not Yon pale, fair child afar, who stands so sad and lonely, And moves so slowly from the spot, Her feet seem locked, and she drags them only. I must confess, she seems to me To look like my own good Margery. _Mephistopheles_. Leave that alone! The sight no health can bring. it is a magic shape, an idol, no live thing. To meet it never can be good! Its haggard look congeals a mortal's blood, And almost turns him into stone; The story of Medusa thou hast known. _Faust_. Yes, 'tis a dead one's eyes that stare upon me, Eyes that no loving hand e'er closed; That is the angel form of her who won me, Tis the dear breast on which I once reposed. _Mephistopheles_. 'Tis sorcery all, thou fool, misled by passion's dreams! For she to every one his own love seems. _Faust_. What bliss! what woe! Methinks I never My sight from that sweet form can sever. Seeft thou, not thicker than a knife-blade's back, A small red ribbon, fitting sweetly The lovely neck it clasps so neatly? _Mephistopheles_. I see the streak around her neck. Her head beneath her arm, you'll next behold her; Perseus has lopped it from her shoulder,-- But let thy crazy passion rest! Come, climb with me yon hillock's breast, Was e'er the Prater[40] merrier then? And if no sorcerer's charm is o'er me, That is a theatre before me. What's doing there? _Servibilis_. They'll straight begin again. A bran-new piece, the very last of seven; To have so much, the fashion here thinks fit. By Dilettantes it is given; 'Twas by a Dilettante writ. Excuse me, sirs, I go to greet you; I am the curtain-raising Dilettant. _Mephistopheles_. When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, That I approve; for there's your place, I grant. WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM, OR OBERON AND TITANIA'S GOLDEN NUPTIALS. _Intermezzo_. _Theatre manager_. Here, for once, we rest, to-day, Heirs of Mieding's[41] glory. All the scenery we display-- Damp vale and mountain hoary! _Herald_. To make the wedding a golden one, Must fifty years expire; But when once the strife is done, I prize the _gold_ the higher. _Oberon_. Spirits, if my good ye mean, Now let all wrongs be righted; For to-day your king and queen Are once again united. _Puck_. Once let Puck coming whirling round, And set his foot to whisking, Hundreds with him throng the ground, Frolicking and frisking. _Ariel_. Ariel awakes the song With many a heavenly measure; Fools not few he draws along, But fair ones hear with pleasure. _Oberon_. Spouses who your feuds would smother, Take from us a moral! Two who wish to love each other, Need only first to quarrel. _Titania_. If she pouts and he looks grim, Take them both together, To the north pole carry him, And off with her to t'other. _Orchestra Tutti_. _Fortissimo_. Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, these, And kin in all conditions, Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, We take for our musicians! _Solo_. See, the Bagpipe comes! fall back! Soap-bubble's name he owneth. How the _Schnecke-schnicke-schnack_ Through his snub-nose droneth! _Spirit that is just shaping itself_. Spider-foot, toad's-belly, too, Give the child, and winglet! 'Tis no animalcule, true, But a poetic thinglet. _A pair of lovers_. Little step and lofty bound Through honey-dew and flowers; Well thou trippest o'er the ground, But soarst not o'er the bowers. _Curious traveller_. This must be masquerade! How odd! My very eyes believe I? Oberon, the beauteous God Here, to-night perceive I! _Orthodox_. Neither claws, nor tail I see! And yet, without a cavil, Just as "the Gods of Greece"[42] were, he Must also be a devil. _Northern artist_. What here I catch is, to be sure, But sketchy recreation; And yet for my Italian tour 'Tis timely preparation. _Purist_. Bad luck has brought me here, I see! The rioting grows louder. And of the whole witch company, There are but two, wear powder. _Young witch_. Powder becomes, like petticoat, Your little, gray old woman: Naked I sit upon my goat, And show the untrimmed human. _Matron_. To stand here jawing[43] with you, we Too much good-breeding cherish; But young and tender though you be, I hope you'll rot and perish. _Leader of the music_. Fly-snouts and gnat-noses, please, Swarm not so round the naked! Grass-hid crickets, frogs in trees, Keep time and don't forsake it! _Weathercock_ [_towards one side_]. Find better company, who can! Here, brides attended duly! There, bachelors, ranged man by man, Most hopeful people truly! _Weathercock [towards the other side_]. And if the ground don't open straight, The crazy crew to swallow, You'll see me, at a furious rate, Jump down to hell's black hollow. _Xenia[_44] We are here as insects, ah! Small, sharp nippers wielding, Satan, as our _cher papa_, Worthy honor yielding. _Hennings_. See how naïvely, there, the throng Among themselves are jesting, You'll hear them, I've no doubt, ere long, Their good kind hearts protesting. _Musagetes_. Apollo in this witches' group Himself right gladly loses; For truly I could lead this troop Much easier than the muses. _Ci-devant genius of the age_. Right company will raise man up. Come, grasp my skirt, Lord bless us! The Blocksberg has a good broad top, Like Germany's Parnassus. _Curious traveller_. Tell me who is that stiff man? With what stiff step he travels! He noses out whate'er he can. "He scents the Jesuit devils." _Crane_. In clear, and muddy water, too, The long-billed gentleman fishes; Our pious gentlemen we view Fingering in devils' dishes. _Child of this world_. Yes, with the pious ones, 'tis clear, "All's grist that comes to their mill;" They build their tabernacles here, On Blocksberg, as on Carmel. _Dancer_. Hark! a new choir salutes my ear! I hear a distant drumming. "Be not disturbed! 'mong reeds you hear The one-toned bitterns bumming." _Dancing-master._ How each his legs kicks up and flings, Pulls foot as best he's able! The clumsy hops, the crooked springs, 'Tis quite disreputable! _Fiddler_. The scurvy pack, they hate, 'tis clear, Like cats and dogs, each other. Like Orpheus' lute, the bagpipe here Binds beast to beast as brother. _Dogmatist_. You'll not scream down my reason, though, By criticism's cavils. The devil's something, that I know, Else how could there be devils? _Idealist_. Ah, phantasy, for once thy sway Is guilty of high treason. If all I see is I, to-day, 'Tis plain I've lost my reason. _Realist_. To me, of all life's woes and plagues, Substance is most provoking, For the first time I feel my legs Beneath me almost rocking. _Supernaturalist_. I'm overjoyed at being here, And even among these rude ones; For if bad spirits are, 'tis clear, There also must be good ones. _Skeptic_. Where'er they spy the flame they roam, And think rich stores to rifle, Here such as I are quite at home, For _Zweifel_ rhymes with _Teufel_.[45] _Leader of the music_. Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees, You cursed dilettanti! Fly-snouts and gnats'-noses, peace! Musicians you, right jaunty! _The Clever ones_. Sans-souci we call this band Of merry ones that skip it; Unable on our feet to stand, Upon our heads we trip it. _The Bunglers_. Time was, we caught our tit-bits, too, God help us now! that's done with! We've danced our leathers entirely through, And have only bare soles to run with. _Jack-o'lanterns_. From the dirty bog we come, Whence we've just arisen: Soon in the dance here, quite at home, As gay young _sparks_ we'll glisten. _Shooting star_. Trailing from the sky I shot, Not a star there missed me: Crooked up in this grassy spot, Who to my legs will assist me? _The solid men_. Room there! room there! clear the ground! Grass-blades well may fall so; Spirits are we, but 'tis found They have plump limbs also. _Puck_. Heavy men! do not, I say, Like elephants' calves go stumping: Let the plumpest one to-day Be Puck, the ever-jumping. _Ariel_. If the spirit gave, indeed, If nature gave you, pinions, Follow up my airy lead To the rose-dominions! _Orchestra_ [_pianissimo_]. Gauzy mist and fleecy cloud Sun and wind have banished. Foliage rustles, reeds pipe loud, All the show has vanished. DREARY DAY.[46] _Field_. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust_. In wretchedness! In despair! Long hunted up and down the earth, a miserable fugitive, and caught at last! Locked up as a malefactor in prison, to converse with horrible torments--the sweet, unhappy creature! Even to this pass! even to this!--Treacherous, worthless spirit, and this thou hast hidden from me!--Stand up here--stand up! Roll thy devilish eyes round grimly in thy head! Stand and defy me with thy intolerable presence! Imprisoned! In irretrievable misery! Given over to evil spirits and to the judgment of unfeeling humanity, and me meanwhile thou lullest in insipid dissipations, concealest from me her growing anguish, and leavest her without help to perish! _Mephistopheles_. She is not the first! _Faust_. Dog! abominable monster! Change him, thou Infinite Spirit! change the worm back into his canine form, as he was often pleased in the night to trot before me, to roll before the feet of the harmless wanderer, and, when he fell, to hang on his shoulders. Change him again into his favorite shape, that he may crawl before me on his belly in the sand, and that I may tread him under foot, the reprobate!--Not the first! Misery! Misery! inconceivable by any human soul! that more than one creature ever sank into the depth of this wretchedness, that the first in its writhing death-agony did not atone for the guilt of all the rest before the eyes of the eternally Forgiving! My very marrow and life are consumed by the misery of this single one; thou grinnest away composedly at the fate of thousands! _Mephistopheles_. Here we are again at our wits' ends already, where the thread of sense, with you mortals, snaps short. Why make a partnership with us, if thou canst not carry it through? Wilt fly, and art not proof against dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves on thee, or thou on us? _Faust_. Gnash not so thy greedy teeth against me! It disgusts me!--Great and glorious spirit, thou that deignedst to appear to me, who knowest my heart and soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on mischief and feasts on ruin? _Mephistopheles_. Hast thou done? _Faust_. Rescue her! O woe be unto thee! The most horrible curse on thee for thousands of years! _Mephistopheles_. I cannot loose the bonds of the avenger, nor open his bolts.--Rescue her!--Who was it that plunged her into ruin? I or thou? [FAUST _looks wildly round_.] Grasp'st thou after the thunder? Well that it was not given to you miserable mortals! To crush an innocent respondent, that is a sort of tyrant's-way of getting room to breathe in embarrassment. _Faust_. Lead me to her! She shall be free! _Mephistopheles_. And the danger which thou incurrest? Know that the guilt of blood at thy hand still lies upon the town. Over the place of the slain, avenging spirits hover and lurk for the returning murderer. _Faust_. That, too, from thee? Murder and death of a world upon thee, monster! Lead me thither, I say, and free her! _Mephistopheles_. I will lead thee, and hear what I can do! Have I all power in heaven and on earth? I will becloud the turnkey's senses; possess thyself of the keys, and bear her out with human hand. I will watch! The magic horses shall be ready, and I will bear you away. So much I can do. _Faust_. Up and away! NIGHT. OPEN FIELD. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Scudding along on black horses_. _Faust_. What's doing, off there, round the gallows-tree?[47] _Mephistopheles_. Know not what they are doing and brewing. _Faust_. Up they go--down they go--wheel about, reel about. _Mephistopheles_. A witches'-crew. _Faust_. They're strewing and vowing. _Mephistopheles_. Pass on! Pass on! PRISON. FAUST [_with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron door_] A long unwonted chill comes o'er me, I feel the whole great load of human woe. Within this clammy wall that frowns before me Lies one whom blinded love, not guilt, brought low! Thou lingerest, in hope to grow bolder! Thou fearest again to behold her! On! Thy shrinking slowly hastens the blow! [_He grasps the key. Singing from within_.] My mother, the harlot, That strung me up! My father, the varlet, That ate me up! My sister small, She gathered up all The bones that day, And in a cool place did lay; Then I woke, a sweet bird, at a magic call; Fly away, fly away! _Faust [unlocking_]. She little dreams, her lover is so near, The clanking chains, the rustling straw can hear; [_He enters_.] _Margaret [burying herself in the bed_]. Woe! woe! They come. O death of bitterness! _Faust_ [_softly_]. Hush! hush! I come to free thee; thou art dreaming. _Margaret_ [_prostrating herself before him_]. Art thou a man, then feel for my distress. _Faust_. Thou'lt wake the guards with thy loud screaming! [_He seizes the chains to tin lock them._] _Margaret_ [_on her knees_]. Headsman, who's given thee this right O'er me, this power! Thou com'st for me at dead of night; In pity spare me, one short hour! Wilt't not be time when Matin bell has rung? [_She stands up._] Ah, I am yet so young, so young! And death pursuing! Fair was I too, and that was my undoing. My love was near, far is he now! Tom is the wreath, the scattered flowers lie low. Take not such violent hold of me! Spare me! what harm have I done to thee? Let me not in vain implore thee. Thou ne'er till now sawft her who lies before thee! _Faust_. O sorrow worse than death is o'er me! _Margaret_. Now I am wholly in thy power. But first I'd nurse my child--do not prevent me. I hugged it through the black night hour; They took it from me to torment me, And now they say I killed the pretty flower. I shall never be happy again, I know. They sing vile songs at me! 'Tis bad in them to do it! There's an old tale that ends just so, Who gave that meaning to it? _Faust [prostrates himself_]. A lover at thy feet is bending, Thy bonds of misery would be rending. _Margaret [flings herself beside him_]. O let us kneel, the saints for aid invoking! See! 'neath the threshold smoking, Fire-breathing, Hell is seething! There prowling, And grim under cover, Satan is howling! _Faust [aloud_]. Margery! Margery! _Margaret [listening_]. That was the voice of my lover! [_She springs up. The chains fall off_.] Where is he? Where? He calls. I hear him. I'm free! Who hinders? I will be near him. I'll fly to his neck! I'll hold him! To my bosom I'll enfold him! He stood on the threshold--called Margery plainly! Hell's howling and clattering to drown it sought vainly,-- Through the devilish, grim scoffs, that might turn one to stone, I caught the sweet, loving, enrapturing tone. _Faust_. 'Tis I! _Margaret_. 'Tis thou! O say it once again. [_Clasping again._] 'Tis he! 'tis he! Where now is all my pain? And where the dungeon's anguish? Joy-giver! 'Tis thou! And come to deliver! I am delivered! Again before me lies the street, Where for the first time thou and I did meet. And the garden-bower, Where we spent that evening hour. _Faust_ [_trying to draw her away_]. Come! Come with me! _Margaret_. O tarry! I tarry so gladly where thou tarriest. [_Caressing him._] _Faust_. Hurry! Unless thou hurriest, Bitterly we both must rue it. _Margaret_. Kiss me! Canst no more do it? So short an absence, love, as this, And forgot how to kiss? What saddens me so as I hang about thy neck? When once, in thy words, thy looks, such a heaven of blisses Came o'er me, I thought my heart would break, And it seemed as if thou wouldst smother me with kisses. Kiss thou me! Else I kiss thee! [_She embraces him._] Woe! woe! thy lips are cold, Stone-dumb. Where's thy love left? Oh! I'm bereft! Who robbed me? [_She turns from him_] _Faust_. O come! Take courage, my darling! Let us go; I clasp-thee with unutterable glow; But follow me! For this alone I plead! _Margaret [turning to him_]. Is it, then, thou? And is it thou indeed? _Faust_. 'Tis I! Come, follow me! _Margaret_. Thou break'st my chain, And tak'st me to thy breast again! How comes it, then, that thou art not afraid of me? And dost thou know, my friend, who 'tis thou settest free? _Faust_. Come! come! The night is on the wane. _Margaret_. Woe! woe! My mother I've slain! Have drowned the babe of mine! Was it not sent to be mine and thine? Thine, too--'tis thou! Scarce true doth it seem. Give me thy hand! 'Tis not a dream! Thy blessed hand!--But ah! there's dampness here! Go, wipe it off! I fear There's blood thereon. Ah God! what hast thou done! Put up thy sword again; I pray thee, do! _Faust_. The past is past--there leave it then, Thou kill'st me too! _Margaret_. No, thou must longer tarry! I'll tell thee how each thou shalt bury; The places of sorrow Make ready to-morrow; Must give the best place to my mother, The very next to my brother, Me a little aside, But make not the space too wide! And on my right breast let the little one lie. No one else will be sleeping by me. Once, to feel _thy_ heart beat nigh me, Oh, 'twas a precious, a tender joy! But I shall have it no more--no, never; I seem to be forcing myself on thee ever, And thou repelling me freezingly; And 'tis thou, the same good soul, I see. _Faust_. If thou feelest 'tis I, then come with me _Margaret_. Out yonder? _Faust_. Into the open air. _Margaret_. If the grave is there, If death is lurking; then come! From here to the endless resting-place, And not another pace--Thou go'st e'en now? O, Henry, might I too. _Faust_. Thou canst! 'Tis but to will! The door stands open. _Margaret_. I dare not go; for me there's no more hoping. What use to fly? They lie in wait for me. So wretched the lot to go round begging, With an evil conscience thy spirit plaguing! So wretched the lot, an exile roaming--And then on my heels they are ever coming! _Faust_. I shall be with thee. _Margaret_. Make haste! make haste! No time to waste! Save thy poor child! Quick! follow the edge Of the rushing rill, Over the bridge And by the mill, Then into the woods beyond On the left where lies the plank Over the pond. Seize hold of it quick! To rise 'tis trying, It struggles still! Rescue! rescue! _Faust_. Bethink thyself, pray! A single step and thou art free! _Margaret_. Would we were by the mountain. See! There sits my mother on a stone, The sight on my brain is preying! There sits my mother on a stone, And her head is constantly swaying; She beckons not, nods not, her head falls o'er, So long she's been sleeping, she'll wake no more. She slept that we might take pleasure. O that was bliss without measure! _Faust_. Since neither reason nor prayer thou hearest; I must venture by force to take thee, dearest. _Margaret_. Let go! No violence will I bear! Take not such a murderous hold of me! I once did all I could to gratify thee. _Faust_. The day is breaking! Dearest! dearest! _Margaret_. Day! Ay, it is day! the last great day breaks in! My wedding-day it should have been! Tell no one thou hast been with Margery! Alas for my garland! The hour's advancing! Retreat is in vain! We meet again, But not at the dancing. The multitude presses, no word is spoke. Square, streets, all places-- sea of faces-- The bell is tolling, the staff is broke. How they seize me and bind me! They hurry me off to the bloody block.[48] The blade that quivers behind me, Quivers at every neck with convulsive shock; Dumb lies the world as the grave! _Faust_. O had I ne'er been born! _Mephistopheles [appears without_]. Up! or thou'rt lost! The morn Flushes the sky. Idle delaying! Praying and playing! My horses are neighing, They shudder and snort for the bound. _Margaret_. What's that, comes up from the ground? He! He! Avaunt! that face! What will he in the sacred place? He seeks me! _Faust_. Thou shalt live! _Margaret_. Great God in heaven! Unto thy judgment my soul have I given! _Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Come! come! or in the lurch I leave both her and thee! _Margaret_. Thine am I, Father! Rescue me! Ye angels, holy bands, attend me! And camp around me to defend me I Henry! I dread to look on thee. _Mephistopheles_. She's judged! _Voice [from above_]. She's saved! _Mephistopheles [to Faust_]. Come thou to me! [_Vanishes with_ FAUST.] _Voice [from within, dying away_]. Henry! Henry! NOTES. [Footnote 1: Dedication. The idea of Faust had early entered into Goethe's mind. He probably began the work when he was about twenty years old. It was first published, as a fragment, in 1790, and did not appear in its present form till 1808, when its author's age was nearly sixty. By the "forms" are meant, of course, the shadowy personages and scenes of the drama.] [Footnote 2: --"Thy messengers"-- "He maketh the winds his-messengers, The flaming lightnings his ministers." _Noyes's Psalms_, c. iv. 4.] [Footnote 3: "The Word Divine." In translating the German "Werdende" (literally, the _becoming, developing_, or _growing_) by the term _word_, I mean the _word_ in the largest sense: "In the beginning was the Word, &c." Perhaps "nature" would be a pretty good rendering, but "word," being derived from "werden," and expressing philosophically and scripturally the going forth or manifestation of mind, seemed to me as appropriate a translation as any.] [Footnote 4: "The old fellow." The commentators do not seem quite agreed whether "den Alten" (the old one) is an entirely reverential phrase here, like the "ancient of days," or savors a little of profane pleasantry, like the title "old man" given by boys to their schoolmaster or of "the old gentleman" to their fathers. Considering who the speaker is, I have naturally inclined to the latter alternative.] [Footnote 5: "Nostradamus" (properly named Michel Notre Dame) lived through the first half of the sixteenth century. He was born in the south of France and was of Jewish extraction. As physician and astrologer, he was held in high honor by the French nobility and kings.] [Footnote 6: The "Macrocosm" is the great world of outward things, in contrast with its epitome, the little world in man, called the microcosm (or world in miniature).] [Footnote 7: "Famulus" seems to mean a cross between a servant and a scholar. The Dominie Sampson called Wagner, is appended to Faust for the time somewhat as Sancho is to Don Quixote. The Doctor Faust of the legend has a servant by that name, who seems to have been more of a _Sancho_, in the sense given to the word by the old New England mothers when upbraiding bad boys (you Sanch'!). Curiously enough, Goethe had in early life a (treacherous) friend named Wagner, who plagiarized part of Faust and made a tragedy of it.] [Footnote 8: "Mock-heroic play." We have Schlegel's authority for thus rendering the phrase "Haupt- und Staats-Action," (literally, "head and State-action,") who says that this title was given to dramas designed for puppets, when they treated of heroic and historical subjects.] [Footnote 9: The literal sense of this couplet in the original is:-- "Is he, in the bliss of becoming, To creative joy near--" "Werde-lust" presents the same difficulty that we found in note 3. This same word, "Werden," is also used by the poet in the introductory theatre scene (page 7), where he longs for the time when he himself was _ripening_, growing, becoming, or _forming_, (as Hayward renders it.) I agree with Hayward, "the meaning probably is, that our Saviour enjoys, in coming to life again," (I should say, in being born into the upper life,) "a happiness nearly equal to that of the Creator in creating."] [Footnote 10: The Angel-chorusses in this scene present the only instances in which the translator, for the sake of retaining the ring and swing of the melody, has felt himself obliged to give a transfusion of the spirit of the thought, instead of its exact form. The literal meaning of the first chorus is:-- Christ is arisen! Joy to the Mortal, Whom the ruinous, Creeping, hereditary Infirmities wound round. Dr. Hedge has come nearer than any one to reconciling meaning and melody thus:-- "Christ has arisen! Joy to our buried Head! Whom the unmerited, Trailing, inherited Woes did imprison." The present translator, without losing sight of the fact that "the Mortal" means Christ, has taken the liberty (constrained by rhyme,--which is sometimes more than the _rudder_ of verse,) of making the congratulation include Humanity, as incarnated in Christ, "the second Adam." In the closing Chorus of Angels, the translator found that he could best preserve the spirit of the five-fold rhyme:-- "Thätig ihn preisenden, Liebe beweisenden, Brüderlich speisenden, Predigend reisenden, Wonne verheissenden," by running it into three couplets.] [Footnote 11: The prose account of the alchymical process is as follows:-- "There was red mercury, a powerfully acting body, united with the tincture of antimony, at a gentle heat of the water-bath. Then, being exposed to the heat of open fire in an aludel, (or alembic,) a sublimate filled its heads in succession, which, if it appeared with various hues, was the desired medicine."] [Footnote 12: "Salamander, &c." The four represent the spirits of the four elements, fire, water, air, and earth, which Faust successively conjures, so that, if the monster belongs in any respect to this mundane sphere, he may be exorcized. But it turns out that he is beyond and beneath all.] [Footnote 13: Here, of course, Faust makes the sign of the cross, or holds out a crucifix.] [Footnote 14: "Fly-God," _i.e._ Beelzebub.] [Footnote 15: The "Drudenfuss," or pentagram, was a pentagonal figure composed of three triangles, thus: [Illustration] [Footnote 16: Doctor's Feast. The inaugural feast given at taking a degree.] [Footnote 17: "Blood." When at the first invention of printing, the art was ascribed to the devil, the illuminated red ink parts were said by the people to be done in blood.] [Footnote 18: "The Spanish boot" was an instrument of torture, like the Scottish boot mentioned in Old Mortality.] [Footnote 19: "Encheiresin Naturæ." Literally, a handling of nature.] [Footnote 20: Still a famous place of public resort and entertainment. On the wall are two old paintings of Faust's carousal and his ride out of the door on a cask. One is accompanied by the following inscription, being two lines (Hexameter and Pentameter) broken into halves:-- "Vive, bibe, obgregare, memor Fausti hujus et hujus P�næ. Aderat clauda haec, Ast erat ampla gradû. 1525." "Live, drink, be merry, remembering This Faust and his Punishment. It came slowly But was in ample measure."] [Footnote 21:_Frosch, Brander_, &c. These names seem to be chosen with an eye to adaptation, Frosch meaning frog, and Brander fireship. "Frog" happens also to be the nickname the students give to a pupil of the gymnasium, or school preparatory to the university.] [Footnote 22: Rippach is a village near Leipsic, and Mr. Hans was a fictitious personage about whom the students used to quiz greenhorns.] [Footnote 23: The original means literally _sea-cat_. Retzsch says, it is the little ring-tailed monkey.] [Footnote 24: One-time-one, _i.e._ multiplication-table.] [Footnote 25: "Hand and glove." The translator's coincidence with Miss Swanwick here was entirely accidental. The German is "thou and thou," alluding to the fact that intimate friends among the Germans, like the sect of Friends, call each other _thou_.] [Footnote 26: The following is a literal translation of the song referred to:-- Were I a little bird, Had I two wings of mine, I'd fly to my dear; But that can never be, So I stay here. Though I am far from thee, Sleeping I'm near to thee, Talk with my dear; When I awake again, I am alone. Scarce is there an hour in the night, When sleep does not take its flight, And I think of thee, How many thousand times Thou gav'st thy heart to me.] [Footnote 27: Donjon. The original is _Zwinger_, which Hayward says is untranslatable. It probably means an old tower, such as is often found in the free cities, where, in a dark passage-way, a lamp is sometimes placed, and a devotional image near it.] [Footnote 28: It was a superstitious belief that the presence of buried treasure was indicated by a blue flame.] [Footnote 29: Lion-dollars--a Bohemian coin, first minted three centuries ago, by Count Schlick, from the mines of Joachim's-Thal. The one side bears a lion, the other a full length image of St. John.] [Footnote 30: An imitation of Ophelia's song: _Hamlet_, act 14, scene 5.] [Footnote 31: The Rat-catcher was supposed to have the art of drawing rats after him by his whistle, like a sort of Orpheus.] [Footnote 32: Walpurgis Night. May-night. Walpurgis is the female saint who converted the Saxons to Christianity.--The Brocken or Blocksberg is the highest peak of the Harz mountains, which comprise about 1350 square miles.--Schirke and Elend are two villages in the neighborhood.] [Footnote 33: Shelley's translation of this couplet is very fine: ("_O si sic omnia!_") "The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho! How they snort and how they blow!"] [Footnote 34: The original is _Windsbraut_, (wind's-bride,) the word used in Luther's Bible to translate Paul's _Euroclydon_.] [Footnote 35: One of the names of the devil in Germany.] [Footnote 36: One of the names of Beelzebub.] [Footnote 37: "The Talmudists say that Adam had a wife called Lilis before he married Eve, and of her he begat nothing but devils." _Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy_. A learned writer says that _Lullaby_ is derived from "Lilla, abi!" "Begone Lilleth!" she having been supposed to lie in wait for children to kill them.] [Footnote 38: This name, derived from two Greek words meaning _rump_ and _fancy_, was meant for Nicolai of Berlin, a great hater of Goethe's writings, and is explained by the fact that the man had for a long time a violent affection of the nerves, and by the application he made of leeches as a remedy, (alluded to by Mephistopheles.)] [Footnote 39: Tegel (mistranslated _pond_ by Shelley) is a small place a few miles from Berlin, whose inhabitants were, in 1799, hoaxed by a ghost story, of which the scene was laid in the former place.] [Footnote 40: The park in Vienna.] [Footnote 41: He was scene-painter to the Weimar theatre.] [Footnote 42: A poem of Schiller's, which gave great offence to the religious people of his day.] [Footnote 43: A literal translation of _Maulen_, but a slang-term in Yankee land.] [Footnote 44: Epigrams, published from time to time by Goethe and Schiller jointly. Hennings (whose name heads the next quatrain) was editor of the _Musaget_, (a title of Apollo, "leader of the muses,") and also of the _Genius of the Age_. The other satirical allusions to classes of notabilities will, without difficulty, be guessed out by the readers.] [Footnote 45: "_Doubt_ is the only rhyme for devil," in German.] [Footnote 46: The French translator, Stapfer, assigns as the probable reason why this scene alone, of the whole drama, should have been left in prose, "that it might not be said that Faust wanted any one of the possible forms of style."] [Footnote 47: Literally the _raven-stone_.] [Footnote 48: The _blood-seat_, in allusion to the old German custom of tying a woman, who was to be beheaded, into a wooden chair.] * * * * * P. S. There is a passage on page 84, the speech of Faust, ending with the lines:-- Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot, And trees from which new green is daily peeping, which seems to have puzzled or misled so much, not only English translators, but even German critics, that the present translator has concluded, for once, to depart from his usual course, and play the commentator, by giving his idea of Goethe's meaning, which is this: Faust admits that the devil has all the different kinds of Sodom-apples which he has just enumerated, gold that melts away in the hand, glory that vanishes like a meteor, and pleasure that perishes in the possession. But all these torments are too insipid for Faust's morbid and mad hankering after the luxury of spiritual pain. Show me, he says, the fruit that rots _before_ one can pluck it, and [a still stronger expression of his diseased craving for agony] trees that fade so quickly as to be every day just putting forth new green, only to tantalize one with perpetual promise and perpetual disappointment. 
779	----	THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS By Christopher Marlowe From The Quarto of 1604 Edited by The Rev. Alexander Dyce THE TRAGICALL HISTORY OF D. FAUSTUS. AS IT HATH BENE ACTED BY THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARLE OF NOTTINGHAM HIS SERUANTS. WRITTEN BY CH. MARL. In reprinting this edition, I have here and there amended the text by means of the later 4tos,--1616, 1624, 1631.--Of 4to 1663, which contains various comparatively modern alterations and additions, I have made no use. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. THE POPE. CARDINAL OF LORRAIN. THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY. DUKE OF VANHOLT. FAUSTUS. VALDES, ] friends to FAUSTUS. CORNELIUS, ] WAGNER, servant to FAUSTUS. Clown. ROBIN. RALPH. Vintner. Horse-courser. A Knight. An Old Man. Scholars, Friars, and Attendants. DUCHESS OF VANHOLT LUCIFER. BELZEBUB. MEPHISTOPHILIS. Good Angel. Evil Angel. The Seven Deadly Sins. Devils. Spirits in the shapes of ALEXANDER THE GREAT, of his Paramour and of HELEN. Chorus. THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS FROM THE QUARTO OF 1604. Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Not marching now in fields of Thrasymene, Where Mars did mate[1] the Carthaginians; Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In courts of kings where state is overturn'd; Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to vaunt[2] her[3] heavenly verse: Only this, gentlemen,--we must perform The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad: To patient judgments we appeal our plaud, And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born, his parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes: Of riper years, to Wertenberg he went, Whereas[4] his kinsmen chiefly brought him up. So soon he profits in divinity, The fruitful plot of scholarism grac'd, That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name, Excelling all whose sweet delight disputes In heavenly matters of theology; Till swoln with cunning,[5] of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow; For, falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted now[6] with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon cursed necromancy; Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss: And this the man that in his study sits. [Exit.] FAUSTUS discovered in his study.[7] FAUSTUS. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess: Having commenc'd, be a divine in shew, Yet level at the end of every art, And live and die in Aristotle's works. Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou[8] hast ravish'd me! Bene disserere est finis logices. Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end? Affords this art no greater miracle? Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that[9] end: A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit: Bid Economy[10] farewell, and[11] Galen come, Seeing, Ubi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus: Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold, And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure: Summum bonum medicinae sanitas, The end of physic is our body's health. Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end? Is not thy common talk found aphorisms? Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague, And thousand desperate maladies been eas'd? Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. Couldst[12] thou make men[13] to live eternally, Or, being dead, raise them to life again, Then this profession were to be esteem'd. Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian? [Reads.] Si una eademque res legatur[14] duobus, alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c. A pretty case of paltry legacies! [Reads.] Exhoereditare filium non potest pater, nisi, &c.[15] Such is the subject of the institute, And universal body of the law:[16] This[17] study fits a mercenary drudge, Who aims at nothing but external trash; Too servile[18] and illiberal for me. When all is done, divinity is best: Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well. [Reads.] Stipendium peccati mors est. Ha! Stipendium, &c. The reward of sin is death: that's hard. [Reads.] Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas; If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there's no truth in us. Why, then, belike we must sin, and so consequently die: Ay, we must die an everlasting death. What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,[19] What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu! These metaphysics of magicians, And necromantic books are heavenly; Lines, circles, scenes,[20] letters, and characters; Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O, what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honour, of omnipotence, Is promis'd to the studious artizan! All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command: emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces, Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds; But his dominion that exceeds in this, Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man; A sound magician is a mighty god: Here, Faustus, tire[21] thy brains to gain a deity. Enter WAGNER.[22] Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, The German Valdes and Cornelius; Request them earnestly to visit me. WAGNER. I will, sir. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Their conference will be a greater help to me Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. GOOD ANGEL. O, Faustus, lay that damned book aside, And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul, And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head! Read, read the Scriptures:--that is blasphemy. EVIL ANGEL. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art Wherein all Nature's treasure[23] is contain'd: Be thou on earth as Jove[24] is in the sky, Lord and commander of these elements.[25] [Exeunt Angels.] FAUSTUS. How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve[26] me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates; I'll have them read me strange philosophy, And tell the secrets of all foreign kings; I'll have them wall all Germany with brass, And make swift Rhine circle fair Wertenberg; I'll have them fill the public schools with silk,[27] Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad; I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, And chase the Prince of Parma from our land, And reign sole king of all the[28] provinces; Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war, Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge,[29] I'll make my servile spirits to invent. Enter VALDES and CORNELIUS. Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius, And make me blest with your sage conference. Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Know that your words have won me at the last To practice magic and concealed arts: Yet not your words only,[30] but mine own fantasy, That will receive no object; for my head But ruminates on necromantic skill. Philosophy is odious and obscure; Both law and physic are for petty wits; Divinity is basest of the three, Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:[31] 'Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish'd me. Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt; And I, that have with concise syllogisms[32] Gravell'd the pastors of the German church, And made the flowering pride of Wertenberg Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, Will be as cunning[33] as Agrippa[34] was, Whose shadow[35] made all Europe honour him. VALDES. Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience, Shall make all nations to canonize us. As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords, So shall the spirits[36] of every element Be always serviceable to us three; Like lions shall they guard us when we please; Like Almain rutters[37] with their horsemen's staves, Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides; Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have the[38] white breasts of the queen of love: From[39] Venice shall they drag huge argosies, And from America the golden fleece That yearly stuffs old Philip's treasury; If learned Faustus will be resolute. FAUSTUS. Valdes, as resolute am I in this As thou to live: therefore object it not. CORNELIUS. The miracles that magic will perform Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in astrology, Enrich'd with tongues, well seen in[40] minerals, Hath all the principles magic doth require: Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowm'd,[41] And more frequented for this mystery Than heretofore the Delphian oracle. The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Ay, all the wealth that our forefathers hid Within the massy entrails of the earth: Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want? FAUSTUS. Nothing, Cornelius. O, this cheers my soul! Come, shew me some demonstrations magical, That I may conjure in some lusty grove, And have these joys in full possession. VALDES. Then haste thee to some solitary grove, And bear wise Bacon's and Albertus'[42] works, The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament; And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease. CORNELIUS. Valdes, first let him know the words of art; And then, all other ceremonies learn'd, Faustus may try his cunning[43] by himself. VALDES. First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments, And then wilt thou be perfecter than I. FAUSTUS. Then come and dine with me, and, after meat, We'll canvass every quiddity thereof; For, ere I sleep, I'll try what I can do: This night I'll conjure, though I die therefore. [Exeunt.] Enter two SCHOLARS.[44] FIRST SCHOLAR. I wonder what's become of Faustus, that was wont to make our schools ring with sic probo. SECOND SCHOLAR. That shall we know, for see, here comes his boy. Enter WAGNER. FIRST SCHOLAR. How now, sirrah! where's thy master? WAGNER. God in heaven knows. SECOND SCHOLAR. Why, dost not thou know? WAGNER. Yes, I know; but that follows not. FIRST SCHOLAR. Go to, sirrah! leave your jesting, and tell us where he is. WAGNER. That follows not necessary by force of argument, that you, being licentiates, should stand upon:[45] therefore acknowledge your error, and be attentive. SECOND SCHOLAR. Why, didst thou not say thou knewest? WAGNER. Have you any witness on't? FIRST SCHOLAR. Yes, sirrah, I heard you. WAGNER. Ask my fellow if I be a thief. SECOND SCHOLAR. Well, you will not tell us? WAGNER. Yes, sir, I will tell you: yet, if you were not dunces, you would never ask me such a question; for is not he corpus naturale? and is not that mobile? then wherefore should you ask me such a question? But that I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I would say), it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place of execution, although I do not doubt to see you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my countenance like a precisian, and begin to speak thus:-- Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would[46] inform your worships: and so, the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren, my dear brethren![47] [Exit.] FIRST SCHOLAR. Nay, then, I fear he is fallen into that damned art for which they two are infamous through the world. SECOND SCHOLAR. Were he a stranger, and not allied to me, yet should I grieve for him. But, come, let us go and inform the Rector, and see if he by his grave counsel can reclaim him. FIRST SCHOLAR. O, but I fear me nothing can reclaim him! SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet let us try what we can do. [Exeunt.] Enter FAUSTUS to conjure.[48] FAUSTUS. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth, Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from th' antartic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations, And try if devils will obey thy hest, Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatiz'd,[49] Th' abbreviated[50] names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct to the heavens, And characters of signs and erring[51] stars, By which the spirits are enforc'd to rise: Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute, And try the uttermost magic can perform.-- Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris:[52] per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus[53] Mephistophilis! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. I charge thee to return, and change thy shape; Thou art too ugly to attend on me: Go, and return an old Franciscan friar; That holy shape becomes a devil best. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] I see there's virtue in my heavenly words: Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility! Such is the force of magic and my spells: No, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat, That canst command great Mephistophilis: Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS like a Franciscan friar.[54] MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do? FAUSTUS. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. MEPHIST. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave: No more than he commands must we perform. FAUSTUS. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? MEPHIST. No, I came hither[55] of mine own accord. FAUSTUS. Did not my conjuring speeches raise thee? speak. MEPHIST. That was the cause, but yet per accidens;[56] For, when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure the Trinity, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell. FAUSTUS. So Faustus hath Already done; and holds this principle, There is no chief but only Belzebub; To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word "damnation" terrifies not him, For he confounds hell in Elysium: His ghost be with the old philosophers! But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord? MEPHIST. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. FAUSTUS. Was not that Lucifer an angel once? MEPHIST. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of God. FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils? MEPHIST. O, by aspiring pride and insolence; For which God threw him from the face of heaven. FAUSTUS. And what are you that live with Lucifer? MEPHIST. Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer. FAUSTUS. Where are you damn'd? MEPHIST. In hell. FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell? MEPHIST. Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:[57] Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul! FAUSTUS. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these[58] tidings to great Lucifer: Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's[59] deity, Say, he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty[60] years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness; Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve[61] me of thy master's mind. MEPHIST. I will, Faustus. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough[62] the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men; I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, And make that country[63] continent to Spain, And both contributory to my crown: The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtain'd what I desir'd,[64] I'll live in speculation of this art, Till Mephistophilis return again. [Exit.] Enter WAGNER[65] and CLOWN. WAGNER. Sirrah boy, come hither. CLOWN. How, boy! swowns, boy! I hope you have seen many boys with such pickadevaunts[66] as I have: boy, quotha! WAGNER. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in? CLOWN. Ay, and goings out too; you may see else. WAGNER. Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness! the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry, that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood-raw. CLOWN. How! my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though 'twere blood-raw! not so, good friend: by'r lady,[67] I had need have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear. WAGNER. Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus?[68] CLOWN. How, in verse? WAGNER. No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre.[69] CLOWN. How, how, knaves-acre! ay, I thought that was all the land his father left him. Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of your living. WAGNER. Sirrah, I say in staves-acre. CLOWN. Oho, oho, staves-acre! why, then, belike, if I were your man, I should be full of vermin.[70] WAGNER. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars,[71] and they shall tear thee in pieces. CLOWN. Do you hear, sir? you may save that labour; they are too familiar with me already: swowns, they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for their[72] meat and drink. WAGNER. Well, do you hear, sirrah? hold, take these guilders. [Gives money.] CLOWN. Gridirons! what be they? WAGNER. Why, French crowns. CLOWN. Mass, but for the name of French crowns, a man were as good have as many English counters. And what should I do with these? WAGNER. Why, now, sirrah, thou art at an hour's warning, whensoever or wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee. CLOWN. No, no; here, take your gridirons again. WAGNER. Truly, I'll none of them. CLOWN. Truly, but you shall. WAGNER. Bear witness I gave them him. CLOWN. Bear witness I give them you again. WAGNER. Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away.--Baliol and Belcher! CLOWN. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I'll knock them, they were never so knocked since they were devils: say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? "Do ye see yonder tall fellow in the round slop?[73] he has killed the devil." So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over. Enter two DEVILS; and the CLOWN runs up and down crying. WAGNER. Baliol and Belcher,--spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.] CLOWN. What, are they gone? a vengeance on them! they have vile[74] long nails. There was a he-devil and a she-devil: I'll tell you how you shall know them; all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet. WAGNER. Well, sirrah, follow me. CLOWN. But, do you hear? if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos? WAGNER. I will teach thee to turn thyself to any thing, to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing. CLOWN. How! a Christian fellow to a dog, or a cat, a mouse, or a rat! no, no, sir; if you turn me into any thing, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisking flea, that I may be here and there and every where: O, I'll tickle the pretty wenches' plackets! I'll be amongst them, i'faith. WAGNER. Well, sirrah, come. CLOWN. But, do you hear, Wagner? WAGNER. How!--Baliol and Belcher! CLOWN. O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep. WAGNER. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigiis nostris[75] insistere. [Exit.] CLOWN. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I'll follow him; I'll serve him, that's flat. [Exit.] FAUSTUS discovered in his study. FAUSTUS. Now, Faustus, must Thou needs be damn'd, and canst thou not be sav'd: What boots it, then, to think of God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now go not backward; no, Faustus, be resolute: Why waver'st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ears, "Abjure this magic, turn to God again!" Ay, and Faustus will turn to God again. To God? he loves thee not; The god thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fix'd the love of Belzebub: To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art. FAUSTUS. Contrition, prayer, repentance--what of them? GOOD ANGEL. O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven! EVIL ANGEL. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men foolish that do trust them most. GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things. EVIL ANGEL. No, Faustus; think of honour and of[76] wealth. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. Of wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What god can hurt thee, Faustus? thou art safe Cast no more doubts.--Come, Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;-- Is't not midnight?--come, Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. Now tell me[77] what says Lucifer, thy lord? MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,[78] So he will buy my service with his soul. FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell. FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom. FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why[79] he tempts us thus? MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris.[80] FAUSTUS. Why,[81] have you any pain that torture[82] others! MEPHIST. As great as have the human souls of men. But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. FAUSTUS. Ay, Mephistophilis, I give it thee. MEPHIST. Then, Faustus,[83] stab thine arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own; And then be thou as great as Lucifer. FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night! View here the blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my wish. MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must Write it in manner of a deed of gift. FAUSTUS. Ay, so I will [Writes]. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more. MEPHIST. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it unwilling I should write this bill?[84] Why streams it not, that I may write afresh? FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL: ah, there it stay'd! Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul shine own? Then write again, FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a chafer of coals. MEPHIST. Here's fire; come, Faustus, set it on.[85] FAUSTUS. So, now the blood begins to clear again; Now will I make an end immediately. [Writes.] MEPHIST. O, what will not I do to obtain his soul? [Aside.] FAUSTUS. Consummatum est; this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription[86] on mine arm? Homo, fuge: whither should I fly? If unto God, he'll throw me[87] down to hell. My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ:-- I see it plain; here in this place is writ, Homo, fuge: yet shall not Faustus fly. MEPHIST. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. [Aside, and then exit.] Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with DEVILS, who give crowns and rich apparel to FAUSTUS, dance, and then depart. FAUSTUS. Speak, Mephistophilis, what means this show? MEPHIST. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind withal, And to shew thee what magic can perform. FAUSTUS. But may I raise up spirits when I please? MEPHIST. Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these. FAUSTUS. Then there's enough for a thousand souls. Here, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, A deed of gift of body and of soul: But yet conditionally that thou perform All articles prescrib'd between us both. MEPHIST. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us made! FAUSTUS. Then hear me read them. [Reads] ON THESE CONDITIONS FOLLOWING. FIRST, THAT FAUSTUS MAY BE A SPIRIT IN FORM AND SUBSTANCE. SECONDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL BE HIS SERVANT, AND AT HIS COMMAND. THIRDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL DO FOR HIM, AND BRING HIM WHATSOEVER HE DESIRES.[88] FOURTHLY, THAT HE SHALL BE IN HIS CHAMBER OR HOUSE INVISIBLE. LASTLY, THAT HE SHALL APPEAR TO THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, AT ALL TIMES, IN WHAT FORM OR SHAPE SOEVER HE PLEASE. I, JOHN FAUSTUS, OF WERTENBERG, DOCTOR, BY THESE PRESENTS, DO GIVE BOTH BODY AND SOUL TO LUCIFER PRINCE OF THE EAST, AND HIS MINISTER MEPHISTOPHILIS; AND FURTHERMORE GRANT UNTO THEM, THAT,[89] TWENTY-FOUR YEARS BEING EXPIRED, THE ARTICLES ABOVE-WRITTEN INVIOLATE, FULL POWER TO FETCH OR CARRY THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, BODY AND SOUL, FLESH, BLOOD, OR GOODS, INTO THEIR HABITATION WHERESOEVER. BY ME, JOHN FAUSTUS. MEPHIST. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed? FAUSTUS. Ay, take it, and the devil give thee good on't! MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, ask what thou wilt. FAUSTUS. First will I question with thee about hell. Tell me, where is the place that men call hell? MEPHIST. Under the heavens. FAUSTUS. Ay, but whereabout? MEPHIST. Within the bowels of these[90] elements, Where we are tortur'd and remain for ever: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is, there[91] must we ever be: And, to conclude, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are[92] not heaven. FAUSTUS. Come, I think hell's a fable. MEPHIST. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. FAUSTUS. Why, think'st thou, then, that Faustus shall be damn'd? MEPHIST. Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll Wherein thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. FAUSTUS. Ay, and body too: but what of that? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond[93] to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain? Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives' tales. MEPHIST. But, Faustus, I am an instance to prove the contrary, For I am damn'd, and am now in hell. FAUSTUS. How! now in hell! Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be damn'd here: What! walking, disputing, &c.[94] But, leaving off this, let me have a wife,[95] The fairest maid in Germany; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife. MEPHIST. How! a wife! I prithee, Faustus, talk not of a wife. FAUSTUS. Nay, sweet Mephistophilis, fetch me one, for I will have one. MEPHIST. Well, thou wilt have one? Sit there till I come: I'll fetch thee a wife in the devil's name. [Exit.] Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with a DEVIL drest like a WOMAN, with fire-works. MEPHIST. Tell me,[96] Faustus, how dost thou like thy wife? FAUSTUS. A plague on her for a hot whore! MEPHIST. Tut, Faustus, Marriage is but a ceremonial toy; If thou lovest me, think no[97] more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans, And bring them every morning to thy bed: She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall have, Be she as chaste as was Penelope, As wise as Saba,[98] or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Hold, take this book, peruse it thoroughly: [Gives book.] The iterating[99] of these lines brings gold; The framing of this circle on the ground Brings whirlwinds, tempests, thunder, and lightning; Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in armour shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou desir'st. FAUSTUS. Thanks, Mephistophilis: yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all spells and incantations, that I might raise up spirits when I please. MEPHIST. Here they are in this book. [Turns to them.] FAUSTUS. Now would I have a book where I might see all characters and planets of the heavens, that I might know their motions and dispositions. MEPHIST. Here they are too. [Turns to them.] FAUSTUS. Nay, let me have one book more,--and then I have done,-- wherein I might see all plants, herbs, and trees, that grow upon the earth. MEPHIST. Here they be. FAUSTUS. O, thou art deceived. MEPHIST. Tut, I warrant thee. [Turns to them.] FAUSTUS. When I behold the heavens, then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys. MEPHIST. Why, Faustus, Thinkest thou heaven is such a glorious thing? I tell thee, 'tis not half so fair as thou, Or any man that breathes on earth. FAUSTUS. How prov'st thou that? MEPHIST. 'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent. FAUSTUS. If it were made for man, 'twas made for me: I will renounce this magic and repent. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. GOOD ANGEL. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee. EVIL ANGEL. Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee. FAUSTUS. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit? Be I a devil, yet God may pity me; Ay, God will pity me, if I repent. EVIL ANGEL. Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. My heart's so harden'd, I cannot repent: Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven, But fearful echoes thunder in mine ears, "Faustus, thou art damn'd!" then swords, and knives, Poison, guns, halters, and envenom'd steel Are laid before me to despatch myself; And long ere this I should have slain myself, Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair. Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love and Oenon's death? And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis? Why should I die, then, or basely despair? I am resolv'd; Faustus shall ne'er repent.-- Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And argue of divine astrology.[100] Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth? MEPHIST. As are the elements, such are the spheres, Mutually folded in each other's orb, And, Faustus, All jointly move upon one axletree, Whose terminine is term'd the world's wide pole; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feign'd, but are erring[101] stars. FAUSTUS. But, tell me, have they all one motion, both situ et tempore? MEPHIST. All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion upon the poles of the zodiac. FAUSTUS. Tush, These slender trifles Wagner can decide: Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill? Who knows not the double motion of the planets? The first is finish'd in a natural day; The second thus; as Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in twenty-eight days. Tush, these are freshmen's[102] suppositions. But, tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia? MEPHIST. Ay. FAUSTUS. How many heavens or spheres are there? MEPHIST. Nine; the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven. FAUSTUS. Well, resolve[103] me in this question; why have we not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less? MEPHIST. Per inoequalem motum respectu totius. FAUSTUS. Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world? MEPHIST. I will not. FAUSTUS. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me. MEPHIST. Move me not, for I will not tell thee. FAUSTUS. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any thing? MEPHIST. Ay, that is not against our kingdom; but this is. Think thou on hell, Faustus, for thou art damned. FAUSTUS. Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world. MEPHIST. Remember this. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell! 'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul. Is't not too late? Re-enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. EVIL ANGEL. Too late. GOOD ANGEL. Never too late, if Faustus can repent. EVIL ANGEL. If thou repent, devils shall tear thee in pieces. GOOD ANGEL. Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. Ah, Christ, my Saviour, Seek to save[104] distressed Faustus' soul! Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. LUCIFER. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just: There's none but I have interest in the same. FAUSTUS. O, who art thou that look'st so terrible? LUCIFER. I am Lucifer, And this is my companion-prince in hell. FAUSTUS. O, Faustus, they are come to fetch away thy soul! LUCIFER. We come to tell thee thou dost injure us; Thou talk'st of Christ, contrary to thy promise: Thou shouldst not think of God: think of the devil, And of his dam too. FAUSTUS. Nor will I henceforth: pardon me in this, And Faustus vows never to look to heaven, Never to name God, or to pray to him, To burn his Scriptures, slay his ministers, And make my spirits pull his churches down. LUCIFER. Do so, and we will highly gratify thee. Faustus, we are come from hell to shew thee some pastime: sit down, and thou shalt see all the Seven Deadly Sins appear in their proper shapes. FAUSTUS. That sight will be as pleasing unto me, As Paradise was to Adam, the first day Of his creation. LUCIFER. Talk not of Paradise nor creation; but mark this show: talk of the devil, and nothing else.--Come away! Enter the SEVEN DEADLY SINS.[105] Now, Faustus, examine them of their several names and dispositions. FAUSTUS. What art thou, the first? PRIDE. I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. I am like to Ovid's flea; I can creep into every corner of a wench; sometimes, like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow; or, like a fan of feathers, I kiss her lips; indeed, I do--what do I not? But, fie, what a scent is here! I'll not speak another word, except the ground were perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras. FAUSTUS. What art thou, the second? COVETOUSNESS. I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl, in an old leathern bag: and, might I have my wish, I would desire that this house and all the people in it were turned to gold, that I might lock you up in my good chest: O, my sweet gold! FAUSTUS. What art thou, the third? WRATH. I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce half-an-hour old; and ever since I have run up and down the world with this case[106] of rapiers, wounding myself when I had nobody to fight withal. I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father. FAUSTUS. What art thou, the fourth? ENVY. I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt. I am lean with seeing others eat. O, that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone! then thou shouldst see how fat I would be. But must thou sit, and I stand? come down, with a vengeance! FAUSTUS. Away, envious rascal!--What art thou, the fifth? GLUTTONY. Who I, sir? I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me, but a bare pension, and that is thirty meals a-day and ten bevers,[107]--a small trifle to suffice nature. O, I come of a royal parentage! my grandfather was a Gammon of Bacon, my grandmother a Hogshead of Claret-wine; my godfathers were these, Peter Pickle-herring and Martin Martlemas-beef; O, but my godmother, she was a jolly gentlewoman, and well-beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress Margery March-beer. Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny; wilt thou bid me to supper? FAUSTUS. No, I'll see thee hanged: thou wilt eat up all my victuals. GLUTTONY. Then the devil choke thee! FAUSTUS. Choke thyself, glutton!--What art thou, the sixth? SLOTH. I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank, where I have lain ever since; and you have done me great injury to bring me from thence: let me be carried thither again by Gluttony and Lechery. I'll not speak another word for a king's ransom. FAUSTUS. What are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last? LECHERY. Who I, sir? I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of fried stock-fish; and the first letter of my name begins with L.[108] FAUSTUS. Away, to hell, to hell![109] [Exeunt the SINS.] LUCIFER. Now, Faustus, how dost thou like this? FAUSTUS. O, this feeds my soul! LUCIFER. Tut, Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight. FAUSTUS. O, might I see hell, and return again, How happy were I then! LUCIFER. Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight.[110] In meantime take this book; peruse it throughly, And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt. FAUSTUS. Great thanks, mighty Lucifer! This will I keep as chary as my life. LUCIFER. Farewell, Faustus, and think on the devil. FAUSTUS. Farewell, great Lucifer. [Exeunt LUCIFER and BELZEBUB.] Come, Mephistophilis. [Exeunt.] Enter CHORUS.[111] CHORUS. Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of astronomy[112] Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons' necks. He now is gone to prove cosmography, And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, That to this day is highly solemniz'd. [Exit.] Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS.[113] FAUSTUS. Having now, my good Mephistophilis, Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier,[114] Environ'd round with airy mountain-tops, With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes, Not to be won by any conquering prince; From Paris next,[115] coasting the realm of France, We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines; Then up to Naples, rich Campania, Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and pav'd with finest brick, Quarter the town in four equivalents: There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb, The way he cut,[116] an English mile in length, Thorough a rock of stone, in one night's space; From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest, In one of which a sumptuous temple stands,[117] That threats the stars with her aspiring top. Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time: But tell me now what resting-place is this? Hast thou, as erst I did command, Conducted me within the walls of Rome? MEPHIST. Faustus, I have; and, because we will not be unprovided, I have taken up his Holiness' privy-chamber for our use. FAUSTUS. I hope his Holiness will bid us welcome. MEPHIST. Tut, 'tis no matter; man; we'll be bold with his good cheer. And now, my Faustus, that thou mayst perceive What Rome containeth to delight thee with, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same: Just through the midst[118] runs flowing Tiber's stream With winding banks that cut it in two parts; Over the which four stately bridges lean, That make safe passage to each part of Rome: Upon the bridge call'd Ponte[119] Angelo Erected is a castle passing strong, Within whose walls such store of ordnance are, And double cannons fram'd of carved brass, As match the days within one complete year; Besides the gates, and high pyramides, Which Julius Caesar brought from Africa. FAUSTUS. Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, of[120] Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear That I do long to see the monuments And situation of bright-splendent Rome: Come, therefore, let's away. MEPHIST. Nay, Faustus, stay: I know you'd fain see the Pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, Where thou shalt see a troop of bald-pate friars, Whose summum bonum is in belly-cheer. FAUSTUS. Well, I'm content to compass then some sport, And by their folly make us merriment. Then charm me, that I[121] May be invisible, to do what I please, Unseen of any whilst I stay in Rome. [Mephistophilis charms him.] MEPHIST. So, Faustus; now Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd. Sound a Sonnet.[122] Enter the POPE and the CARDINAL OF LORRAIN to the banquet, with FRIARS attending. POPE. My Lord of Lorrain, will't please you draw near? FAUSTUS. Fall to, and the devil choke you, an you spare! POPE. How now! who's that which spake?--Friars, look about. FIRST FRIAR. Here's nobody, if it like your Holiness. POPE. My lord, here is a dainty dish was sent me from the Bishop of Milan. FAUSTUS. I thank you, sir. [Snatches the dish.] POPE. How now! who's that which snatched the meat from me? will no man look?--My lord, this dish was sent me from the Cardinal of Florence. FAUSTUS. You say true; I'll ha't. [Snatches the dish.] POPE. What, again!--My lord, I'll drink to your grace. FAUSTUS. I'll pledge your grace. [Snatches the cup.] C. OF LOR. My lord, it may be some ghost, newly crept out of Purgatory, come to beg a pardon of your Holiness. POPE. It may be so.--Friars, prepare a dirge to lay the fury of this ghost.--Once again, my lord, fall to. [The POPE crosses himself.] FAUSTUS. What, are you crossing of yourself? Well, use that trick no more, I would advise you. [The POPE crosses himself again.] Well, there's the second time. Aware the third; I give you fair warning. [The POPE crosses himself again, and FAUSTUS hits him a box of the ear; and they all run away.] Come on, Mephistophilis; what shall we do? MEPHIST. Nay, I know not: we shall be cursed with bell, book, and candle. FAUSTUS. How! bell, book, and candle,--candle, book, and bell,-- Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell! Anon you shall hear a hog grunt, a calf bleat, and an ass bray, Because it is Saint Peter's holiday. Re-enter all the FRIARS to sing the Dirge. FIRST FRIAR. Come, brethren, let's about our business with good devotion. They sing. CURSED BE HE THAT STOLE AWAY HIS HOLINESS' MEAT FROM THE TABLE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT STRUCK HIS HOLINESS A BLOW ON THE FACE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK FRIAR SANDELO A BLOW ON THE PATE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT DISTURBETH OUR HOLY DIRGE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK AWAY HIS HOLINESS' WINE! maledicat Dominus? ['?' sic] Et omnes Sancti! Amen! [MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the FRIARS, and fling fire-works among them; and so exeunt.] Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. When Faustus had with pleasure ta'en the view Of rarest things, and royal courts of kings, He stay'd his course, and so returned home; Where such as bear his absence but with grief, I mean his friends and near'st companions, Did gratulate his safety with kind words, And in their conference of what befell, Touching his journey through the world and air, They put forth questions of astrology, Which Faustus answer'd with such learned skill As they admir'd and wonder'd at his wit. Now is his fame spread forth in every land: Amongst the rest the Emperor is one, Carolus the Fifth, at whose palace now Faustus is feasted 'mongst his noblemen. What there he did, in trial of his art, I leave untold; your eyes shall see['t] perform'd. [Exit.] Enter ROBIN[123] the Ostler, with a book in his hand. ROBIN. O, this is admirable! here I ha' stolen one of Doctor Faustus' conjuring-books, and, i'faith, I mean to search some circles for my own use. Now will I make all the maidens in our parish dance at my pleasure, stark naked, before me; and so by that means I shall see more than e'er I felt or saw yet. Enter RALPH, calling ROBIN. RALPH. Robin, prithee, come away; there's a gentleman tarries to have his horse, and he would have his things rubbed and made clean: he keeps such a chafing with my mistress about it; and she has sent me to look thee out; prithee, come away. ROBIN. Keep out, keep out, or else you are blown up, you are dismembered, Ralph: keep out, for I am about a roaring piece of work. RALPH. Come, what doest thou with that same book? thou canst not read? ROBIN. Yes, my master and mistress shall find that I can read, he for his forehead, she for her private study; she's born to bear with me, or else my art fails. RALPH. Why, Robin, what book is that? ROBIN. What book! why, the most intolerable book for conjuring that e'er was invented by any brimstone devil. RALPH. Canst thou conjure with it? ROBIN. I can do all these things easily with it; first, I can make thee drunk with ippocras[124] at any tabern[125] in Europe for nothing; that's one of my conjuring works. RALPH. Our Master Parson says that's nothing. ROBIN. True, Ralph: and more, Ralph, if thou hast any mind to Nan Spit, our kitchen-maid, then turn her and wind her to thy own use, as often as thou wilt, and at midnight. RALPH. O, brave, Robin! shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use? On that condition I'll feed thy devil with horse-bread as long as he lives, of free cost. ROBIN. No more, sweet Ralph: let's go and make clean our boots, which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the devil's name. [Exeunt.] Enter ROBIN and RALPH[126] with a silver goblet. ROBIN. Come, Ralph: did not I tell thee, we were for ever made by this Doctor Faustus' book? ecce, signum! here's a simple purchase[127] for horse-keepers: our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts. RALPH. But, Robin, here comes the Vintner. ROBIN. Hush! I'll gull him supernaturally. Enter VINTNER. Drawer,[128] I hope all is paid; God be with you!--Come, Ralph. VINTNER. Soft, sir; a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid from you, ere you go. ROBIN. I a goblet, Ralph, I a goblet!--I scorn you; and you are but a, &c. I a goblet! search me. VINTNER. I mean so, sir, with your favour. [Searches ROBIN.] ROBIN. How say you now? VINTNER. I must say somewhat to your fellow.--You, sir! RALPH. Me, sir! me, sir! search your fill. [VINTNER searches him.] Now, sir, you may be ashamed to burden honest men with a matter of truth. VINTNER. Well, tone[129] of you hath this goblet about you. ROBIN. You lie, drawer, 'tis afore me [Aside].--Sirrah you, I'll teach you to impeach honest men;--stand by;--I'll scour you for a goblet;--stand aside you had best, I charge you in the name of Belzebub.--Look to the goblet, Ralph [Aside to RALPH]. VINTNER. What mean you, sirrah? ROBIN. I'll tell you what I mean. [Reads from a book] Sanctobulorum Periphrasticon--nay, I'll tickle you, Vintner.--Look to the goblet, Ralph [Aside to RALPH].--[Reads] Polypragmos Belseborams framanto pacostiphos tostu, Mephistophilis, &c. Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, sets squibs at their backs, and then exit. They run about. VINTNER. O, nomine Domini! what meanest thou, Robin? thou hast no goblet. RALPH. Peccatum peccatorum!--Here's thy goblet, good Vintner. [Gives the goblet to VINTNER, who exit.] ROBIN. Misericordia pro nobis! what shall I do? Good devil, forgive me now, and I'll never rob thy library more. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. MEPHIST. Monarch of Hell,[130] under whose black survey Great potentates do kneel with awful fear, Upon whose altars thousand souls do lie, How am I vexed with these villains' charms? From Constantinople am I hither come, Only for pleasure of these damned slaves. ROBIN. How, from Constantinople! you have had a great journey: will you take sixpence in your purse to pay for your supper, and be gone? MEPHIST. Well, villains, for your presumption, I transform thee into an ape, and thee into a dog; and so be gone! [Exit.] ROBIN. How, into an ape! that's brave: I'll have fine sport with the boys; I'll get nuts and apples enow. RALPH. And I must be a dog. ROBIN. I'faith, thy head will never be out of the pottage-pot. [Exeunt.] Enter EMPEROR,[131] FAUSTUS, and a KNIGHT, with ATTENDANTS. EMPEROR. Master Doctor Faustus,[132] I have heard strange report of thy knowledge in the black art, how that none in my empire nor in the whole world can compare with thee for the rare effects of magic: they say thou hast a familiar spirit, by whom thou canst accomplish what thou list. This, therefore, is my request, that thou let me see some proof of thy skill, that mine eyes may be witnesses to confirm what mine ears have heard reported: and here I swear to thee, by the honour of mine imperial crown, that, whatever thou doest, thou shalt be no ways prejudiced or endamaged. KNIGHT. I'faith, he looks much like a conjurer. [Aside.] FAUSTUS. My gracious sovereign, though I must confess myself far inferior to the report men have published, and nothing answerable to the honour of your imperial majesty, yet, for that love and duty binds me thereunto, I am content to do whatsoever your majesty shall command me. EMPEROR. Then, Doctor Faustus, mark what I shall say. As I was sometime solitary set Within my closet, sundry thoughts arose About the honour of mine ancestors, How they had won[133] by prowess such exploits, Got such riches, subdu'd so many kingdoms, As we that do succeed,[134] or they that shall Hereafter possess our throne, shall (I fear me) ne'er attain to that degree Of high renown and great authority: Amongst which kings is Alexander the Great, Chief spectacle of the world's pre-eminence, The bright[135] shining of whose glorious acts Lightens the world with his reflecting beams, As when I hear but motion made of him, It grieves my soul I never saw the man: If, therefore, thou, by cunning of thine art, Canst raise this man from hollow vaults below, Where lies entomb'd this famous conqueror, And bring with him his beauteous paramour, Both in their right shapes, gesture, and attire They us'd to wear during their time of life, Thou shalt both satisfy my just desire, And give me cause to praise thee whilst I live. FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, I am ready to accomplish your request, so far forth as by art and power of my spirit I am able to perform. KNIGHT. I'faith, that's just nothing at all. [Aside.] FAUSTUS. But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability[136] to present before your eyes the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes, which long since are consumed to dust. KNIGHT. Ay, marry, Master Doctor, now there's a sign of grace in you, when you will confess the truth. [Aside.] FAUSTUS. But such spirits as can lively resemble Alexander and his paramour shall appear before your grace, in that manner that they both[137] lived in, in their most flourishing estate; which I doubt not shall sufficiently content your imperial majesty. EMPEROR. Go to, Master Doctor; let me see them presently. KNIGHT. Do you hear, Master Doctor? you bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor! FAUSTUS. How then, sir? KNIGHT. I'faith, that's as true as Diana turned me to a stag. FAUSTUS. No, sir; but, when Actaeon died, he left the horns for you.--Mephistophilis, be gone. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] KNIGHT. Nay, an you go to conjuring, I'll be gone. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. I'll meet with you anon for interrupting me so. --Here they are, my gracious lord. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with SPIRITS in the shapes of ALEXANDER and his PARAMOUR. EMPEROR. Master Doctor, I heard this lady, while she lived, had a wart or mole in her neck: how shall I know whether it be so or no? FAUSTUS. Your highness may boldly go and see. EMPEROR. Sure, these are no spirits, but the true substantial bodies of those two deceased princes. [Exeunt Spirits.] FAUSTUS. Wilt please your highness now to send for the knight that was so pleasant with me here of late? EMPEROR. One of you call him forth. [Exit ATTENDANT.] Re-enter the KNIGHT with a pair of horns on his head. How now, sir knight! why, I had thought thou hadst been a bachelor, but now I see thou hast a wife, that not only gives thee horns, but makes thee wear them. Feel on thy head. KNIGHT. Thou damned wretch and execrable dog, Bred in the concave of some monstrous rock, How dar'st thou thus abuse a gentleman? Villain, I say, undo what thou hast done! FAUSTUS. O, not so fast, sir! there's no haste: but, good, are you remembered how you crossed me in my conference with the Emperor? I think I have met with you for it. EMPEROR. Good Master Doctor, at my entreaty release him: he hath done penance sufficient. FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, not so much for the injury he offered me here in your presence, as to delight you with some mirth, hath Faustus worthily requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am content to release him of his horns:--and, sir knight, hereafter speak well of scholars.--Mephistophilis, transform him straight.[138] [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns.] --Now, my good lord, having done my duty, I humbly take my leave. EMPEROR. Farewell, Master Doctor: yet, ere you go, Expect from me a bounteous reward. [Exeunt EMPEROR, KNIGHT, and ATTENDANTS.] FAUSTUS. Now, Mephistophilis,[139] the restless course That time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life, Calls for the payment of my latest years: Therefore, sweet Mephistophilis, let us Make haste to Wertenberg. MEPHIST. What, will you go on horse-back or on foot[?] FAUSTUS. Nay, till I'm past this fair and pleasant green, I'll walk on foot. Enter a HORSE-COURSER.[140] HORSE-COURSER. I have been all this day seeking one Master Fustian: mass, see where he is!--God save you, Master Doctor! FAUSTUS. What, horse-courser! you are well met. HORSE-COURSER. Do you hear, sir? I have brought you forty dollars for your horse. FAUSTUS. I cannot sell him so: if thou likest him for fifty, take him. HORSE-COURSER. Alas, sir, I have no more!--I pray you, speak for me. MEPHIST. I pray you, let him have him: he is an honest fellow, and he has a great charge, neither wife nor child. FAUSTUS. Well, come, give me your money [HORSE-COURSER gives FAUSTUS the money]: my boy will deliver him to you. But I must tell you one thing before you have him; ride him not into the water, at any hand. HORSE-COURSER. Why, sir, will he not drink of all waters? FAUSTUS. O, yes, he will drink of all waters; but ride him not into the water: ride him over hedge or ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into the water. HORSE-COURSER. Well, sir.--Now am I made man for ever: I'll not leave my horse for forty:[141] if he had but the quality of hey-ding-ding, hey-ding-ding, I'd make a brave living on him: he has a buttock as slick as an eel [Aside].--Well, God b'wi'ye, sir: your boy will deliver him me: but, hark you, sir; if my horse be sick or ill at ease, if I bring his water to you, you'll tell me what it is? FAUSTUS. Away, you villain! what, dost think I am a horse-doctor? [Exit HORSE-COURSER.] What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die? Thy fatal time doth draw to final end; Despair doth drive distrust into[142] my thoughts: Confound these passions with a quiet sleep: Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross; Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit. [Sleeps in his chair.] Re-enter HORSE-COURSER, all wet, crying. HORSE-COURSER. Alas, alas! Doctor Fustian, quoth a? mass, Doctor Lopus[143] was never such a doctor: has given me a purgation, has purged me of forty dollars; I shall never see them more. But yet, like an ass as I was, I would not be ruled by him, for he bade me I should ride him into no water: now I, thinking my horse had had some rare quality that he would not have had me know of,[144] I, like a venturous youth, rid him into the deep pond at the town's end. I was no sooner in the middle of the pond, but my horse vanished away, and I sat upon a bottle of hay, never so near drowning in my life. But I'll seek out my doctor, and have my forty dollars again, or I'll make it the dearest horse!--O, yonder is his snipper-snapper.--Do you hear? you, hey-pass,[145] where's your master? MEPHIST. Why, sir, what would you? you cannot speak with him. HORSE-COURSER. But I will speak with him. MEPHIST. Why, he's fast asleep: come some other time. HORSE-COURSER. I'll speak with him now, or I'll break his glass-windows about his ears. MEPHIST. I tell thee, he has not slept this eight nights. HORSE-COURSER. An he have not slept this eight weeks, I'll speak with him. MEPHIST. See, where he is, fast asleep. HORSE-COURSER. Ay, this is he.--God save you, Master Doctor, Master Doctor, Master Doctor Fustian! forty dollars, forty dollars for a bottle of hay! MEPHIST. Why, thou seest he hears thee not. HORSE-COURSER. So-ho, ho! so-ho, ho! [Hollows in his ear.] No, will you not wake? I'll make you wake ere I go. [Pulls FAUSTUS by the leg, and pulls it away.] Alas, I am undone! what shall I do? FAUSTUS. O, my leg, my leg!--Help, Mephistophilis! call the officers.--My leg, my leg! MEPHIST. Come, villain, to the constable. HORSE-COURSER. O Lord, sir, let me go, and I'll give you forty dollars more! MEPHIST. Where be they? HORSE-COURSER. I have none about me: come to my ostry,[146] and I'll give them you. MEPHIST. Be gone quickly. [HORSE-COURSER runs away.] FAUSTUS. What, is he gone? farewell he! Faustus has his leg again, and the Horse-courser, I take it, a bottle of hay for his labour: well, this trick shall cost him forty dollars more. Enter WAGNER. How now, Wagner! what's the news with thee? WAGNER. Sir, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your company. FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt! an honourable gentleman, to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning.[147]--Come, Mephistophilis, let's away to him. [Exeunt.] Enter the DUKE OF VANHOLT, the DUCHESS, and FAUSTUS.[148] DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this merriment hath much pleased me. FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, I am glad it contents you so well. --But it may be, madam, you take no delight in this. I have heard that great-bellied women do long for some dainties or other: what is it, madam? tell me, and you shall have it. DUCHESS. Thanks, good Master Doctor: and, for I see your courteous intent to pleasure me, I will not hide from you the thing my heart desires; and, were it now summer, as it is January and the dead time of the winter, I would desire no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes. FAUSTUS. Alas, madam, that's nothing!--Mephistophilis, be gone. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] Were it a greater thing than this, so it would content you, you should have it. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with grapes. Here they be, madam: wilt please you taste on them? DUKE. Believe me, Master Doctor, this makes me wonder above the rest, that being in the dead time of winter and in the month of January, how you should come by these grapes. FAUSTUS. If it like your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world, that, when it is here winter with us, in the contrary circle it is summer with them, as in India, Saba,[149] and farther countries in the east; and by means of a swift spirit that I have, I had them brought hither, as you see. --How do you like them, madam? be they good? DUCHESS. Believe me, Master Doctor, they be the best grapes that e'er I tasted in my life before. FAUSTUS. I am glad they content you so, madam. DUKE. Come, madam, let us in, where you must well reward this learned man for the great kindness he hath shewed to you. DUCHESS. And so I will, my lord; and, whilst I live, rest beholding[150] for this courtesy. FAUSTUS. I humbly thank your grace. DUKE. Come, Master Doctor, follow us, and receive your reward. [Exeunt.] Enter WAGNER.[151] WAGNER. I think my master means to die shortly, For he hath given to me all his goods:[152] And yet, methinks, if that death were near, He would not banquet, and carouse, and swill Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly-cheer As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See, where they come! belike the feast is ended. [Exit.] Enter FAUSTUS with two or three SCHOLARS, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FIRST SCHOLAR. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you. FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, For that I know your friendship is unfeign'd, And Faustus' custom is not to deny The just requests of those that wish him well, You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherways for pomp and majesty Than when Sir Paris cross'd the seas with her, And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. Be silent, then, for danger is in words. [Music sounds, and HELEN passeth over the stage.[153]] SECOND SCHOLAR. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, Whom all the world admires for majesty. THIRD SCHOLAR. No marvel though the angry Greeks pursu'd With ten years' war the rape of such a queen, Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare. FIRST SCHOLAR. Since we have seen the pride of Nature's works, And only paragon of excellence, Let us depart; and for this glorious deed Happy and blest be Faustus evermore! FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, farewell: the same I wish to you. [Exeunt SCHOLARS.] Enter an OLD MAN.[154] OLD MAN. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail To guide thy steps unto the way of life, By which sweet path thou mayst attain the goal That shall conduct thee to celestial rest! Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears, Tears falling from repentant heaviness Of thy most vile[155] and loathsome filthiness, The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul With such flagitious crimes of heinous sin[156] As no commiseration may expel, But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet, Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. FAUSTUS. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done? Damn'd art thou, Faustus, damn'd; despair and die! Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost[157] come;" And Faustus now[158] will come to do thee right. [MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.] OLD MAN. Ah, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! I see an angel hovers o'er thy head, And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul: Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. FAUSTUS. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel Thy words to comfort my distressed soul! Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. OLD MAN. I go, sweet Faustus; but with heavy cheer, Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now? I do repent; and yet I do despair: Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast: What shall I do to shun the snares of death? MEPHIST. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign lord: Revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy flesh. FAUSTUS. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption, And with my blood again I will confirm My former vow I made to Lucifer. MEPHIST. Do it, then, quickly,[159] with unfeigned heart, Lest greater danger do attend thy drift. FAUSTUS. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age, That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments that our hell affords. MEPHIST. His faith is great; I cannot touch his soul; But what I may afflict his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. FAUSTUS. One thing, good servant,[160] let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my heart's desire,-- That I might have unto my paramour That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean Those[161] thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer. MEPHIST. Faustus, this,[162] or what else thou shalt desire, Shall be perform'd in twinkling of an eye. Re-enter HELEN. FAUSTUS. Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless[163] towers of Ilium-- Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.-- [Kisses her.] Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!-- Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is[164] in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack'd; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear'd to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms; And none but thou shalt[165] be my paramour! [Exeunt.] Enter the OLD MAN.[166] OLD MAN. Accursed Faustus, miserable man, That from thy soul exclud'st the grace of heaven, And fly'st the throne of his tribunal-seat! Enter DEVILS. Satan begins to sift me with his pride: As in this furnace God shall try my faith, My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee. Ambitious fiends, see how the heavens smile At your repulse, and laugh your state to scorn! Hence, hell! for hence I fly unto my God. [Exeunt,--on one side, DEVILS, on the other, OLD MAN.] Enter FAUSTUS,[167] with SCHOLARS. FAUSTUS. Ah, gentlemen! FIRST SCHOLAR. What ails Faustus? FAUSTUS. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still! but now I die eternally. Look, comes he not? comes he not? SECOND SCHOLAR. What means Faustus? THIRD SCHOLAR. Belike he is grown into some sickness by being over-solitary. FIRST SCHOLAR. If it be so, we'll have physicians to cure him. --'Tis but a surfeit; never fear, man. FAUSTUS. A surfeit of deadly sin, that hath damned both body and soul. SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven; remember God's mercies are infinite. FAUSTUS. But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned: the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. Ah, gentlemen, hear me with patience, and tremble not at my speeches! Though my heart pants and quivers to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, O, would I had never seen Wertenberg, never read book! and what wonders I have done, all Germany can witness, yea, all the world; for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea, heaven itself, heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy; and must remain in hell for ever, hell, ah, hell, for ever! Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in hell for ever? THIRD SCHOLAR. Yet, Faustus, call on God. FAUSTUS. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! Ah, my God, I would weep! but the devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood, instead of tears! yea, life and soul! O, he stays my tongue! I would lift up my hands; but see, they hold them, they hold them! ALL. Who, Faustus? FAUSTUS. Lucifer and Mephistophilis. Ah, gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning![168] ALL. God forbid! FAUSTUS. God forbade it, indeed; but Faustus hath done it: for vain pleasure of twenty-four years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood: the date is expired; the time will come, and he will fetch me. FIRST SCHOLAR. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before,[169] that divines might have prayed for thee? FAUSTUS. Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces, if I named God, to fetch both body and soul, if I once gave ear to divinity: and now 'tis too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me. SECOND SCHOLAR. O, what shall we do to save[170] Faustus? FAUSTUS. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart. THIRD SCHOLAR. God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus. FIRST SCHOLAR. Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let us into the next room, and there pray for him. FAUSTUS. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever ye hear,[171] come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. SECOND SCHOLAR. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy upon thee. FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, farewell: if I live till morning, I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell. ALL. Faustus, farewell. [Exeunt SCHOLARS.--The clock strikes eleven.] FAUSTUS. Ah, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente,[172] lente currite, noctis equi! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. O, I'll leap up to my God!--Who pulls me down?-- See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! One drop would save my soul, half a drop: ah, my Christ!-- Ah, rend not my heart for naming of my Christ! Yet will I call on him: O, spare me, Lucifer!-- Where is it now? 'tis gone: and see, where God Stretcheth out his arm, and bends his ireful brows! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God! No, no! Then will I headlong run into the earth: Earth, gape! O, no, it will not harbour me! You stars that reign'd at my nativity, Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist. Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud[s], That, when you[173] vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may but ascend to heaven! [The clock strikes the half-hour.] Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon O God, If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me, Impose some end to my incessant pain; Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd! O, no end is limited to damned souls! Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd Unto some brutish beast![174] all beasts are happy, For, when they die, Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements; But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven. [The clock strikes twelve.] O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell! [Thunder and lightning.] O soul, be chang'd into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found! Enter DEVILS. My God, my god, look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while! Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer! I'll burn my books!--Ah, Mephistophilis! [Exeunt DEVILS with FAUSTUS.] [175] Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise, Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practice more than heavenly power permits. [Exit.] Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: mate-- i.e. confound, defeat.] [Footnote 2: vaunt-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "daunt."] [Footnote 3: her-- All the 4tos "his."] [Footnote 4: Whereas-- i.e. where.] [Footnote 5: cunning-- i.e. knowledge.] [Footnote 6: So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "more."] [Footnote 7: FAUSTUS discovered in his study-- Most probably, the Chorus, before going out, drew a curtain, and discovered Faustus sitting. In B. Barnes's DIVILS CHARTER, 1607, we find; "SCEN. VLTIMA. ALEXANDER VNBRACED BETWIXT TWO CARDINALLS in his study LOOKING VPON A BOOKE, whilst a groome draweth the Curtaine." Sig. L 3.] [Footnote 8: Analytics, 'tis thou, &c.-- Qy. "Analytic"? (but such phraseology was not uncommon).] [Footnote 9: So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "the" (the printer having mistaken "yt" for "ye").] [Footnote 10: So the later 4tos (with various spelling).--2to 1604 "Oncaymaeon."] [Footnote 11: and-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 12: Couldst-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "Wouldst."] [Footnote 13: men-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "man."] [Footnote 14: legatur-- All the 4tos "legatus."] [Footnote 15: &c.-- So two of the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 16: law-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "Church."] [Footnote 17: This-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "His."] [Footnote 18: Too servile-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "The deuill."] [Footnote 19: Che sera, sera-- Lest it should be thought that I am wrong in not altering the old spelling here, I may quote from Panizzi's very critical edition of the ORLANDO FURIOSO, "La satisfazion ci SERA pronta." C. xviii. st. 67.] [Footnote 20: scenes-- "And sooner may a gulling weather-spie By drawing forth heavens SCEANES tell certainly," &c. Donne's FIRST SATYRE,--p. 327, ed. 1633.] [Footnote 21: tire-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "trie."] [Footnote 22: Enter WAGNER, &c.-- Perhaps the proper arrangement is,] "Wagner! Enter WAGNER. Commend me to my dearest friends," &c.] [Footnote 23: treasure-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "treasury."] [Footnote 24: Jove-- So again, p. 84, first col.,[See Note 59] : "Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death By desperate thoughts against JOVE'S deity," &c.: and I may notice that Marlowe is not singular in applying the name JOVE to the God of Christians:] "Beneath our standard of JOUES powerfull sonne [i.e. Christ--". MIR. FOR MAGISTRATES, p. 642, ed. 1610. "But see the judgement of almightie JOUE," &c. Id. p. 696. "O sommo GIOVE per noi crocifisso," &c. Pulci,--MORGANTE MAG. C. ii. st. 1.] [Footnote 25: these elements-- So again, "Within the bowels of THESE elements," &c., p. 87, first col,[See Note 90----"THESE" being equivalent to THE. (Not unfrequently in our old writers THESE is little more than redundant.)] [Footnote 26: resolve-- i.e. satisfy, inform.] [Footnote 27: silk-- All the 4tos "skill" (and so the modern editors!).] [Footnote 28: the-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "our."] [Footnote 29: the fiery keel at Antwerp's bridge-- During the blockade of Antwerp by the Prince of Parma in 1585, "They of Antuerpe knowing that the bridge and the Stocadoes were finished, made a great shippe, to be a meanes to breake all this worke of the prince of Parmaes: this great shippe was made of masons worke within, in the manner of a vaulted caue: vpon the hatches there were layed myll-stones, graue-stones, and others of great weight; and within the vault were many barrels of powder, ouer the which there were holes, and in them they had put matches, hanging at a thred, the which burning vntill they came vnto the thred, would fall into the powder, and so blow vp all. And for that they could not haue any one in this shippe to conduct it, Lanckhaer, a sea captaine of the Hollanders, being then in Antuerpe, gaue them counsell to tye a great beame at the end of it, to make it to keepe a straight course in the middest of the streame. In this sort floated this shippe the fourth of Aprill, vntill that it came vnto the bridge; where (within a while after) the powder wrought his effect, with such violence, as the vessell, and all that was within it, and vpon it, flew in pieces, carrying away a part of the Stocado and of the bridge. The marquesse of Roubay Vicont of Gant, Gaspar of Robles lord of Billy, and the Seignior of Torchies, brother vnto the Seignior of Bours, with many others, were presently slaine; which were torne in pieces, and dispersed abroad, both vpon the land and vpon the water." Grimeston's GENERALL HISTORIE OF THE NETHERLANDS, p. 875, ed. 1609.] [Footnote 30: only-- Qy. "alone"? (This line is not in the later 4tos.)] [Footnote 31: vile-- Old ed. "vild": but see note ||, p. 68.--(This line is not in the later 4tos.) [Note || from page 68 (The Second Part of Tamburlaine the Great):] Vile-- The 8vo "Vild"; the 4to "Wild" (Both eds. a little before, have "VILE monster, born of some infernal hag", and, a few lines after, "To VILE and ignominious servitude":--the fact is, our early writers (or rather transcribers), with their usual inconsistency of spelling, give now the one form, and now the other: compare the folio SHAKESPEARE, 1623, where we sometimes find "vild" and sometimes "VILE.")--] [Footnote 32: concise syllogisms-- Old ed. "Consissylogismes."] [Footnote 33: cunning-- i.e. knowing, skilful.] [Footnote 34: Agrippa-- i.e. Cornelius Agrippa.] [Footnote 35: shadow-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "shadowes."] [Footnote 36: spirits-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "subiects."] [Footnote 37: Almain rutters-- See note �, p. 43.] [Note � from p. 43. (The Second Part of Tamburlaine the Great): Almains, Rutters-- Rutters are properly--German troopers (reiter, reuter). In the third speech after the present one this line is repeated VERBATIM: but in the first scene of our author's FAUSTUS we have, "Like ALMAIN RUTTERS with their horsemen's staves."--] [Footnote 38: have the-- So two of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "in their."] [Footnote 39: From-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "For."] [Footnote 40: in-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 41: renowm'd-- See note ||, p. 11.] [Note || from p. 11. (The First Part of Tamburlaine the Great): renowmed-- i.e. renowned.--So the 8vo.--The 4to "renowned." --The form "RENOWMED" (Fr. RENOMME) occurs repeatedly afterwards in this play, according to the 8vo. It is occasionally found in writers posterior to Marlowe's time. e.g. "Of Constantines great towne RENOUM'D in vaine." Verses to King James, prefixed to Lord Stirling's MONARCHICKE TRAGEDIES, ed. 1607.--] [Footnote 42: Albertus'-- i.e. Albertus Magnus.--The correction of I. M. in Gent. Mag. for Jan. 1841.--All the 4tos "Albanus."] [Footnote 43: cunning-- i.e. skill.] [Footnote 44: Enter two SCHOLARS-- Scene, perhaps, supposed to be before Faustus's house, as Wagner presently says, "My master is within at dinner."] [Footnote 45: upon-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "vpon't."] [Footnote 46: speak, would-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "speake, IT would."] [Footnote 47: my dear brethren-- This repetition (not found in the later 4tos) is perhaps an error of the original compositor.] [Footnote 48: Enter FAUSTUS to conjure-- The scene is supposed to be a grove; see p. 81, last line of sec. col. [Page 81, second column, last line: "VALDES. Then haste thee to some solitary grove,"--] [Footnote 49: anagrammatiz'd-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "and Agramithist."] [Footnote 50: Th' abbreviated-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "The breuiated."] [Footnote 51: erring-- i.e. wandering.] [Footnote 52: surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris-- The later 4tos have "surgat Mephistophilis DRAGON, quod tumeraris."--There is a corruption here, which seems to defy emendation. For "quod TUMERARIS," Mr. J. Crossley, of Manchester, would read (rejecting the word "Dragon") "quod TU MANDARES" (the construction being "quod tu mandares ut Mephistophilis appareat et surgat"): but the "tu" does not agree with the preceding "vos."--The Revd. J. Mitford proposes "surgat Mephistophilis, per Dragon (or Dagon) quod NUMEN EST AERIS."] [Footnote 53: dicatus-- So two of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "dicatis."] [Footnote 54: Re-enter Mephistophilis, &c.-- According to THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, on which this play is founded, Faustus raises Mephistophilis in "a thicke wood neere to Wittenberg, called in the German tongue Spisser Wolt..... Presently, not three fathom above his head, fell a flame in manner of a lightning, and changed itselfe into a globe..... Suddenly the globe opened, and sprung up in the height of a man; so burning a time, in the end it converted to the shape of a fiery man[?-- This pleasant beast ran about the circle a great while, and, lastly, appeared in the manner of a Gray Fryer, asking Faustus what was his request?" Sigs. A 2, A 3, ed. 1648. Again; "After Doctor Faustus had made his promise to the devill, in the morning betimes he called the spirit before him, and commanded him that he should alwayes come to him like a fryer after the order of Saint Francis, with a bell in his hand like Saint Anthony, and to ring it once or twice before he appeared, that he might know of his certaine coming." Id. Sig. A 4.] [Footnote 55: came hither-- So two of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "came NOW hither."] [Footnote 56: accidens-- So two of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "accident."] [Footnote 57: Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it-- Compare Milton, Par. Lost, iv. 75; "Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell."] [Footnote 58: these-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "those."] [Footnote 59: Jove's-- See note �, p. 80. [i.e. Note 24] : ] [Footnote 60: four and twenty-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "24."] [Footnote 61: resolve-- i.e. satisfy, inform.] [Footnote 62: thorough-- So one of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "through."] [Footnote 63: country-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "land."] [Footnote 64: desir'd-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "desire."] [Footnote 65: Enter WAGNER, &c.-- Scene, a street most probably.] [Footnote 66: pickadevaunts-- i.e. beards cut to a point.] [Footnote 67: by'r lady-- i.e. by our Lady.] [Footnote 68: Qui mihi discipulus-- The first words of W. Lily's AD DISCIPULOS CARMEN DE MORIBUS, "Qui mihi discipulus, puer, es, cupis atque doceri, Huc ades," &c.] [Footnote 69: staves-acre-- A species of larkspur.] [Footnote 70: vermin-- Which the seeds of staves-acre were used to destroy.] [Footnote 71: familiars-- i.e. attendant-demons.] [Footnote 72: their-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "my."] [Footnote 73: slop-- i.e. wide breeches.] [Footnote 74: vile-- Old ed. "vild." See note || p. 68. [Note || from page 68 (The Second Part of Tamburlaine the Great): Vile-- The 8vo "Vild"; the 4to "Wild" (Both eds. a little before, have "VILE monster, born of some infernal hag", and, a few lines after, "To VILE and ignominious servitude":--the fact is, our early writers (or rather transcribers), with their usual inconsistency of spelling, give now the one form, and now the other: compare the folio SHAKESPEARE, 1623, where we sometimes find "vild" and sometimes "VILE.")] [Footnote 75: vestigiis nostris-- All the 4tos "vestigias nostras."] [Footnote 76: of-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 77: me-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 78: he lives-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "I liue."] [Footnote 79: why-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 80: Solamen miseris, &c.-- An often-cited line of modern Latin poetry: by whom it was written I know not.] [Footnote 81: Why-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 82: torture-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "tortures."] [Footnote 83: Faustus-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 84: Bill-- i.e. writing, deed.] [Footnote 85: Here's fire; come, Faustus, set it on-- This would not be intelligible without the assistance of THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, the sixth chapter of which is headed,--"How Doctor Faustus set his blood in a saucer on warme ashes, and writ as followeth." Sig. B, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 86: But what is this inscription, &c.-- "He [Faustus-- tooke a small penknife and prickt a veine in his left hand; and for certainty thereupon were seen on his hand these words written, as if they had been written with blood, O HOMO, FUGE." THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, Sig. B, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 87: me-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "thee."] [Footnote 88: he desires-- Not in any of the four 4tos. In the tract just cited, the "3d Article" stands thus,--"That Mephostophiles should bring him any thing, and doe for him whatsoever." Sig. A 4, ed. 1648. A later ed. adds "he desired." Marlowe, no doubt, followed some edition of the HISTORY in which these words, or something equivalent to them, had been omitted by mistake. (2to 1661, which I consider as of no authority, has "he requireth.")] [Footnote 89: that, &c.-- So all the 4tos, ungrammatically.] [Footnote 90: these-- See note §, p. 80.[i.e. Note 25] : ] [Footnote 91: there-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 92: are-- So two of the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "is."] [Footnote 93: fond-- i.e. foolish.] [Footnote 94: What! walking, disputing, &c.-- The later 4tos have "What, SLEEPING, EATING, walking, AND disputing!" But it is evident that this speech is not given correctly in any of the old eds.] [Footnote 95: let me have a wife, &c.-- The ninth chapter of THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS narrates "How Doctor Faustus would have married, and how the Devill had almost killed him for it," and concludes as follows. "It is no jesting [said Mephistophilis-- with us: hold thou that which thou hast vowed, and we will peforme as we have promised; and more shall that, thou shalt have thy hearts desire of what woman soever thou wilt, be she alive or dead, and so long as thou wilt thou shalt keep her by thee.--These words pleased Faustus wonderfull well, and repented himself that he was so foolish to wish himselfe married, that might have any woman in the whole city brought him at his command; the which he practised and persevered in a long time." Sig. B 3, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 96: me-- Not in 4to 1604. (This line is wanting in the later 4tos.)] [Footnote 97: no-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 98: Saba-- i.e. Sabaea--the Queen of Sheba.] [Footnote 99: iterating-- i.e. reciting, repeating.] [Footnote 100: And argue of divine astrology, &c.-- In THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, there are several tedious pages on the subject; but our dramatist, in the dialogue which follows, has no particular obligations to them.] [Footnote 101: erring-- i.e. wandering.] [Footnote 102: freshmen's-- "A Freshman, tiro, novitius." Coles's DICT. Properly, a student during his first term at the university.] [Footnote 103: resolve-- i.e. satisfy, inform.] [Footnote 104: Seek to save-- Qy. "Seek THOU to save"? But see note ||, p. 18.] [Note ||, from page 18 (The First Part of Tamburlaine The Great): Barbarous-- Qy. "O Barbarous"? in the next line but one, "O treacherous"? and in the last line of the speech, "O bloody"? But we occasionally find in our early dramatists lines which are defective in the first syllable; and in some of these instances at least it would almost seem that nothing has been omitted by the transcriber or printer.--] [Footnote 105: Enter the SEVEN DEADLY SINS-- In THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, Lucifer amuses Faustus, not by calling up the Seven Deadly Sins, but by making various devils appear before him, "one after another, in forme as they were in hell." "First entered Beliall in forme of a beare," &c.--"after him came Beelzebub, in curled haire of a horseflesh colour," &c.--"then came Astaroth, in the forme of a worme," &c. &c. During this exhibition, "Lucifer himselfe sate in manner of a man all hairy, but of browne colour, like a squirrell, curled, and his tayle turning upward on his backe as the squirrels use: I think he could crack nuts too like a squirrell." Sig. D, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 106: case-- i.e. couple.] [Footnote 107: bevers-- i.e. refreshments between meals.] [Footnote 108: L.-- All the 4tos "Lechery."--Here I have made the alteration recommended by Mr. Collier in his Preface to COLERIDGE'S SEVEN LECTURES ON SHAKESPEARE AND MILTON, p. cviii.] [Footnote 109: Away, to hell, to hell-- In 4to 1604, these words stand on a line by themselves, without a prefix. (In the later 4tos, the corresponding passage is as follows; "------ begins with Lechery. LUCIFER. Away to hell, away! On, piper! [Exeunt the SINS. FAUSTUS. O, how this sight doth delight my soul!" &c.)] [Footnote 110: I will send for thee at midnight-- In THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, we have a particular account of Faustus's visit to the infernal regions, Sig. D 2, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 111: Enter CHORUS-- Old ed. "Enter WAGNER solus." That these lines belong to the Chorus would be evident enough, even if we had no assistance here from the later 4tos.--The parts of Wagner and of the Chorus were most probably played by the same actor: and hence the error.] [Footnote 112: Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of astronomy, &c.-- See the 21st chapter of THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS,--"How Doctor Faustus was carried through the ayre up to the heavens, to see the whole world, and how the sky and planets ruled," &c.] [Footnote 113: Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS-- Scene, the Pope's privy-chamber.] [Footnote 114: Trier-- i.e. Treves or Triers.] [Footnote 115: From Paris next, &c.-- This description is from THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS; "He came from Paris to Mentz, where the river of Maine falls into the Rhine: notwithstanding he tarried not long there, but went into Campania, in the kingdome of Neapol, in which he saw an innumerable sort of cloysters, nunries, and churches, and great houses of stone, the streets faire and large, and straight forth from one end of the towne to the other as a line; and all the pavement of the city was of bricke, and the more it rained into the towne, the fairer the streets were: there saw he the tombe of Virgill, and the highway that he cu[t] through the mighty hill of stone in one night, the whole length of an English mile," &c. Sig. E 2, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 116: The way he cut, &c.-- During the middle ages Virgil was regarded as a great magician, and much was written concerning his exploits in that capacity. The LYFE OF VIRGILIUS, however, (see Thoms's EARLY PROSE ROMANCES, vol. ii.,) makes no mention of the feat in question. But Petrarch speaks of it as follows. "Non longe a Puteolis Falernus collis attollitur, famoso palmite nobilis. Inter Falernum et mare mons est saxeus, hominum manibus confossus, quod vulgus insulsum a Virgilio magicis cantaminibus factum putant: ita clarorum fama hominum, non veris contenta laudibus, saepe etiam fabulis viam facit. De quo cum me olim Robertus regno clarus, sed praeclarus ingenio ac literis, quid sentirem, multis astantibus, percunctatus esset, humanitate fretus regia, qua non reges modo sed homines vicit, jocans nusquam me legisse magicarium fuisse Virgilium respondi: quod ille severissimae nutu frontis approbans, non illic magici sed ferri vestigia confessus est. Sunt autem fauces excavati montis angustae sed longissimae atque atrae: tenebrosa inter horrifica semper nox: publicum iter in medio, mirum et religioni proximum, belli quoque immolatum temporibus, sic vero populi vox est, et nullis unquam latrociniis attentatum, patet: Criptam Neapolitanam dicunt, cujus et in epistolis ad Lucilium Seneca mentionem fecit. Sub finem fusci tramitis, ubi primo videri coelum incipit, in aggere edito, ipsius Virgilii busta visuntur, pervetusti operis, unde haec forsan ab illo perforati montis fluxit opinio." ITINERARIUM SYRIACUM,--OPP. p. 560, ed. Bas.] [Footnote 117: From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest, In one of which a sumptuous temple stands, &c.-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "In MIDST of which," &c.--THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS shews WHAT "sumptuous temple" is meant: "From thence he came to Venice....He wondred not a little at the fairenesse of S. Marks Place, and the sumptuous church standing thereon, called S. Marke, how all the pavement was set with coloured stones, and all the rood or loft of the church double gilded over." Sig. E 2, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 118: Just through the midst, &c.-- This and the next line are not in 4to 1604. I have inserted them from the later 4tos, as being absolutely necessary for the sense.] [Footnote 119: Ponte-- All the 4tos "Ponto."] [Footnote 120: of-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 121: Then charm me, that I, &c.-- A corrupted passage.--Compare THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, Sig. E 3, ed. 1648; where, however, the Cardinal, whom the Pope entertains, is called the Cardinal of PAVIA.] [Footnote 122: Sonnet-- Variously written, SENNET, SIGNET, SIGNATE, &c.--A particular set of notes on the trumpet, or cornet, different from a flourish. See Nares's GLOSS. in V. SENNET.] [Footnote 123: Enter ROBIN, &c.-- Scene, near an inn.] [Footnote 124: ippocras-- Or HIPPOCRAS,--a medicated drink composed of wine (usually red) with spices and sugar. It is generally supposed to have been so called from HIPPOCRATES (contracted by our earliest writers to HIPPOCRAS); perhaps because it was strained,--the woollen bag used by apothecaries to strain syrups and decoctions for clarification being termed HIPPOCRATES' SLEEVE.] [Footnote 125: tabern-- i.e. tavern.] [Footnote 126: [Exeunt. Enter ROBIN and RALPH, &c.-- A scene is evidently wanting after the Exeunt of Robin and Ralph.] [Footnote 127: purchase-- i.e. booty--gain, acquisition.] [Footnote 128: Drawer-- There is an inconsistency here: the Vintner cannot properly be addressed as "Drawer." The later 4tos are also inconsistent in the corresponding passage: Dick says, "THE VINTNER'S BOY follows us at the hard heels," and immediately the "VINTNER" enters.] [Footnote 129: tone-- i.e. the one.] [Footnote 130: MEPHIST-- Monarch of hell, &c.-- Old ed. thus:--] "MEPHIST. Vanish vilaines, th' one like an Ape, an other like a Beare, the third an Asse, for doing this enterprise. Monarch of hell, vnder whose blacke suruey," &c. What follows, shews that the words which I have omitted ought to have no place in the text; nor is there any thing equivalent to them in the corresponding passage of the play as given in the later 4tos.] [Footnote 131: Enter EMPEROR, &c.-- Scene--An apartment in the Emperor's Palace. According to THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, the Emperor "was personally, with the rest of the nobles and gentlemen, at the towne of Inzbrack, where he kept his court." Sig. G, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 132: Master Doctor Faustus, &c-- The greater part of this scene is closely borrowed from the history just cited: e.g. "Faustus, I have heard much of thee, that thou art excellent in the black art, and none like thee in mine empire; for men say that thou hast a familiar spirit with thee, and that thou canst doe what thou list; it is therefore (said the Emperor) my request of thee, that thou let me see a proofe of thy experience: and I vow unto thee, by the honour of my emperiall crowne, none evill shall happen unto thee for so doing," &c. Ibid.] [Footnote 133: won-- May be right: but qy. "done"?] [Footnote 134: As we that do succeed, &c.-- A corrupted passage (not found in the later 4tos).] [Footnote 135: The bright, &c.-- See note ||, p. 18.] [Note ||, from page 18 (The First Part of Tamburlaine The Great): Barbarous-- Qy. "O Barbarous"? in the next line but one, "O treacherous"? and in the last line of the speech, "O bloody"? But we occasionally find in our early dramatists lines which are defective in the first syllable; and in some of these instances at least it would almost seem that nothing has been omitted by the transcriber or printer.--] [Footnote 136: But, if it like your grace, it is not in my ability, &c.] "D. Faustus answered, My most excellent lord, I am ready to accomplish your request in all things, so farre forth as I and my spirit are able to performe: yet your majesty shall know that their dead bodies are not able substantially to be brought before you; but such spirits as have seene Alexander and his Paramour alive shall appeare unto you, in manner and form as they both lived in their most flourishing time; and herewith I hope to please your Imperiall Majesty. Then Faustus went a little aside to speake to his spirit; but he returned againe presently, saying, Now, if it please your Majesty, you shall see them; yet, upon this condition, that you demand no question of them, nor speake unto them; which the Emperor agreed unto. Wherewith Doctor Faustus opened the privy-chamber doore, where presently entered the great and mighty emperor Alexander Magnus, in all things to looke upon as if he had beene alive; in proportion, a strong set thicke man, of a middle stature, blacke haire, and that both thicke and curled, head and beard, red cheekes, and a broad face, with eyes like a basiliske; he had a compleat harnesse (i.e. suit of armour) burnished and graven, exceeding rich to look upon: and so, passing towards the Emperor Carolus, he made low and reverend courtesie: whereat the Emperour Carolus would have stood up to receive and greet him with the like reverence; but Faustus tooke hold on him, and would not permit him to doe it. Shortly after, Alexander made humble reverence, and went out againe; and comming to the doore, his paramour met him. She comming in made the Emperour likewise reverence: she was cloathed in blew velvet, wrought and imbroidered with pearls and gold; she was also excellent faire, like milke and blood mixed, tall and slender, with a face round as an apple. And thus passed [she-- certaine times up and downe the house; which the Emperor marking, said to himselfe, Now have I seene two persons which my heart hath long wished to behold; and sure it cannot otherwise be (said he to himselfe) but that the spirits have changed themselves into these formes, and have but deceived me, calling to minde the woman that raised the prophet Samuel: and for that the Emperor would be the more satisfied in the matter, he said, I have often heard that behind, in her neck, she had a great wart or wen; wherefore he tooke Faustus by the hand without any words, and went to see if it were also to be seene on her or not; but she, perceiving that he came to her, bowed downe her neck, when he saw a great wart; and hereupon she vanished, leaving the Emperor and the rest well contented." THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, Sig. G, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 137: both-- Old ed. "best."] [Footnote 138: Mephistophilis, transform him straight-- According to THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, the knight was not present during Faustus's "conference" with the Emperor; nor did he offer the doctor any insult by doubting his skill in magic. We are there told that Faustus happening to see the knight asleep, "leaning out of a window of the great hall," fixed a huge pair of hart's horns on his head; "and, as the knight awaked, thinking to pull in his head, he hit his hornes against the glasse, that the panes thereof flew about his eares: thinke here how this good gentleman was vexed, for he could neither get backward nor forward." After the emperor and the courtiers, to their great amusement, had beheld the poor knight in this condition, Faustus removed the horns. When Faustus, having taken leave of the emperor, was a league and a half from the city, he was attacked in a wood by the knight and some of his companions: they were in armour, and mounted on fair palfreys; but the doctor quickly overcame them by turning all the bushes into horsemen, and "so charmed them, that every one, knight and other, for the space of a whole moneth, did weare a paire of goates hornes on their browes, and every palfry a paire of oxe hornes on his head; and this was their penance appointed by Faustus." A second attempt of the knight to revenge himself on Faustus proved equally unsuccessful. Sigs. G 2, I 3, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 139: FAUSTUS. Now Mephistophilis, &c.-- Here the scene is supposed to be changed to the "fair and pleasant green" which Faustus presently mentions.] [Footnote 140: Horse-courser-- i.e. Horse-dealer.--We are now to suppose the scene to be near the home of Faustus, and presently that it is the interior of his house, for he falls asleep in his chair.--"How Doctor Faustus deceived a Horse-courser" is related in a short chapter (the 34th) of THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS: "After this manner he served a horse-courser at a faire called Pheiffering," &c.] [Footnote 141: for forty-- Qy. "for TWICE forty DOLLARS"?] [Footnote 142: into-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "vnto."] [Footnote 143: Doctor Lopus-- i.e. Doctor Lopez, domestic physician to Queen Elizabeth, who was put to death for having received a bribe from the court of Spain to destroy her. He is frequently mentioned in our early dramas: see my note on Middleton's WORKS, iv. 384.] [Footnote 144: know of-- The old ed. has "KNOWNE of"; which perhaps is right, meaning--acquainted with.] [Footnote 145: hey-pass-- Equivalent to--juggler.] [Footnote 146: ostry-- i.e. inn,--lodging.] [Footnote 147: cunning-- i.e. skill.] [Footnote 148: [Exeunt. Enter the DUKE OF VANHOLT, the DUCHESS, and FAUSTUS-- Old ed.; "Exeunt. Enter to them the DUKE, the DUTCHESS, the DUKE speakes." In the later 4tos a scene intervenes between the "Exeunt" of Faustus, Mephistophilis, and Wagner, and the entrance of the Duke of Vanholt, &c.--We are to suppose that Faustus is now at the court of the Duke of Vanholt: this is plain, not only from the later 4tos, --in which Wagner tells Faustus that the Duke "hath sent some of his men to attend him, with provision fit for his journey,"--but from THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, the subjoined portion of which is closely followed in the present scene. "Chap. xxxix. HOW DOCTOR FAUSTUS PLAYED A MERRY JEST WITH THE DUKE OF ANHOLT IN HIS COURT. Doctor Faustus on a time went to the Duke of Anholt, who welcommed him very courteously; this was the moneth of January; where sitting at the table, he perceived the dutchess to be with child; and forbearing himselfe untill the meat was taken from the table, and that they brought in the banqueting dishes [i.e. the dessert--, Doctor Faustus said to the dutchesse, Gratious lady, I have alwayes heard that great-bellied women doe alwayes long for some dainties; I beseech therefore your grace, hide not your minde from me, but tell me what you desire to eat. She answered him, Doctor Faustus, now truly I will not hide from you what my heart doth most desire; namely, that, if it were now harvest, I would eat my bellyfull of grapes and other dainty fruit. Doctor Faustus answered hereupon, Gracious lady, this is a small thing for me to doe, for I can doe more than this. Wherefore he tooke a plate, and set open one of the casements of the window, holding it forth; where incontinent he had his dish full of all manner of fruit, as red and white grapes, peares, and apples, the which came from out of strange countries: all these he presented the dutchesse, saying, Madam, I pray you vouchsafe to taste of this dainty fruit, the which came from a farre countrey, for there the summer is not yet ended. The dutchesse thanked Faustus highly, and she fell to her fruit with full appetite. The Duke of Anholt notwithstanding could not withhold to ask Faustus with what reason there were such young fruit to be had at that time of the yeare. Doctor Faustus told him, May it please your grace to understand that the year is divided into two circles of the whole world, that when with us it is winter, in the contrary circle it is notwithstanding summer; for in India and Saba there falleth or setteth the sunne, so that it is so warm that they have twice a yeare fruit; and, gracious lord, I have a swift spirit, the which can in the twinkling of an eye fulfill my desire in any thing; wherefore I sent him into those countries, who hath brought this fruit as you see: whereat the duke was in great admiration."] [Footnote 149: Saba-- i.e. Sabaea.] [Footnote 150: beholding-- i.e. beholden.] [Footnote 151: Enter WAGNER-- Scene, a room in the house of Faustus.] [Footnote 152: he hath given to me all his goods-- Compare chap. lvi. of THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS,--"How Doctor Faustus made his will, in which he named his servant Wagner to be his heire."] [Footnote 153: HELEN passeth over the stage-- In THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS we have the following description of Helen. "This lady appeared before them in a most rich gowne of purple velvet, costly imbrodered; her haire hanged downe loose, as faire as the beaten gold, and of such length that it reached downe to her hammes; having most amorous cole-black eyes, a sweet and pleasant round face, with lips as red as a cherry; her cheekes of a rose colour, her mouth small, her neck white like a swan; tall and slender of personage; in summe, there was no imperfect place in her: she looked round about with a rolling hawkes eye, a smiling and wanton countenance, which neere-hand inflamed the hearts of all the students; but that they perswaded themselves she was a spirit, which made them lightly passe away such fancies." Sig. H 4, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 154: Enter an OLD MAN-- See chap. xlviii of THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS,--"How an old man, the neighbour of Faustus, sought to perswade him to amend his evil life and to fall into repentance," --according to which history, the Old Man's exhortation is delivered at his own house, whither he had invited Faustus to supper.] [Footnote 155: vild-- Old ed. "vild." See note ||, p. 68. [Note || from page 68 (The Second Part of Tamburlaine the Great): Vile-- The 8vo "Vild"; the 4to "Wild" (Both eds. a little before, have "VILE monster, born of some infernal hag", and, a few lines after, "To VILE and ignominious servitude":--the fact is, our early writers (or rather transcribers), with their usual inconsistency of spelling, give now the one form, and now the other: compare the folio SHAKESPEARE, 1623, where we sometimes find "vild" and sometimes "VILE.")--] [Footnote 156: sin-- Old ed. "sinnes" (This is not in the later 4tos).] [Footnote 157: almost-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 158: now-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 159: MEPHIST. Do it, then, quickly, &c.-- After this speech, most probably, there ought to be a stage-direction, "FAUSTUS STABS HIS ARM, AND WRITES ON A PAPER WITH HIS BLOOD. Compare THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, chap. xlix,--"How Doctor Faustus wrote the second time with his owne blood, and gave it to the Devill."] [Footnote 160: One thing, good servant, &c.-- "To the end that this miserable Faustus might fill the lust of his flesh and live in all manner of voluptuous pleasure, it came in his mind, after he had slept his first sleepe, and in the 23 year past of his time, that he had a great desire to lye with faire Helena of Greece, especially her whom he had seen and shewed unto the students at Wittenberg: wherefore he called unto his spirit Mephostophiles, commanding him to bring to him the faire Helena; which he also did. Whereupon he fell in love with her, and made her his common concubine and bed-fellow; for she was so beautifull and delightfull a peece, that he could not be one houre from her, if he should therefore have suffered death, she had so stoln away his heart: and, to his seeming, in time she was with childe, whom Faustus named Justus Faustus. The childe told Doctor Faustus many things which were don in forraign countrys; but in the end, when Faustus lost his life, the mother and the childe vanished away both together." THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Sig. I 4, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 161: Those-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "These."] [Footnote 162: Faustus, this-- Qy. "This, Faustus"?] [Footnote 163: topless-- i.e. not exceeded in height by any.] [Footnote 164: is-- So the later 4tos.--2to 1604 "be."] [Footnote 165: shalt-- So all the 4tos; and so I believe Marlowe wrote, though the grammar requires "shall."] [Footnote 166: Enter the OLD MAN-- Scene, a room in the Old Man's house. --In THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS the Old Man makes himself very merry with the attempts of the evil powers to hurt him. "About two dayes after that he had exhorted Faustus, as the poore man lay in his bed, suddenly there was a mighty rumbling in the chamber, the which he was never wont to heare, and he heard as it had beene the groaning of a sow, which lasted long: whereupon the good old man began to jest and mocke, and said, Oh, what a barbarian cry is this? Oh faire bird, what foul musicke is this? A[h--, faire angell, that could not tarry two dayes in his place! beginnest thou now to runne into a poore mans house, where thou hast no power, and wert not able to keepe thy owne two dayes? With these and such like words the spirit departed," &c. Sig. I 2, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 167: Enter Faustus, &c.-- Scene, a room in the house of Faustus.] [Footnote 168: cunning-- i.e. knowledge, skill.] [Footnote 169: Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, &c.-- "Wherefore one of them said unto him, Ah, friend Faustus, what have you done to conceale this matter so long from us? We would, by the helpe of good divines and the grace of God, have brought you out of this net, and have torne you out of the bondage and chaines of Satan; whereas now we feare it is too late, to the utter ruine both of your body and soule. Doctor Faustus answered, I durst never doe it, although I often minded to settle my life [myself?-- to godly people to desire counsell and helpe; and once mine old neighbour counselled me that I should follow his learning and leave all my conjurations: yet, when I was minded to amend and to follow that good mans counsell, then came the Devill and would have had me away, as this night he is like to doe, and said, so soone as I turned againe to God, he would dispatch me altogether." THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Sig. K 3, ed. 1648.] [Footnote 170: save-- So the later 4tos.--Not in 4to 1604.] [Footnote 171: and what noise soever ye hear, &c.-- "Lastly, to knit up my troubled oration, this is my friendly request, that you would go to rest, and let nothing trouble you; also, if you chance heare any noyse or rumbling about the house, be not therewith afraid, for there shall no evill happen unto you," &c. THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, ubi supra.] [Footnote 172: O lente, &c. "At si, quem malles, Cephalum complexa teneres, Clamares, LENTE CURRITE, NOCTIS EQUI." Ovid,--AMOR. i. xiii. 39.] [Footnote 173: That, when you, &c.-- So all the old eds.; and it is certain that awkward changes of person are sometimes found in passages of our early poets: but qy., "That, when THEY vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from THEIR smoky mouths," &c.?] [Footnote 174: and I be chang'd Unto some brutish beast-- "Now, thou Faustus, damned wretch, how happy wert thou, if, as an unreasonable beast, thou mightest dye without [a-- soule! so shouldst thou not feele any more doubts," &c. THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Sig. K. ed. 1648.] [Footnote 175: Exeunt DEVILS with FAUSTUS-- In THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, his "miserable and lamentable end" is described as follows: it took place, we are informed, at "the village called Rimlich, halfe a mile from Wittenberg."--"The students and the other that were there, when they had prayed for him, they wept, and so went forth; but Faustus tarried in the hall; and when the gentlemen were laid in bed, none of them could sleepe, for that they att[e--nded to heare if they might be privy of his end. It happened that betweene twelve and one a clocke at midnight, there blew a mighty storme of winde against the house, as though it would have blowne the foundation thereof out of his place. Hereupon the students began to feare and goe out of their beds, comforting one another; but they would not stirre out of the chamber; and the host of the house ran out of doores, thinking the house would fall. The students lay neere unto the hall wherein Doctor Faustus lay, and they heard a mighty noyse and hissing, as if the hall had beene full of snakes and adders. With that, the hall-doore flew open, wherein Doctor Faustus was, that he began to cry for helpe, saying, Murther, murther! but it came forth with halfe a voyce, hollowly: shortly after, they heard him no more. But when it was day, the students, that had taken no rest that night, arose and went into the hall, in the which they left Doctor Faustus; where notwithstanding they found not Faustus, but all the hall lay sprinkled with blood, his braines cleaving to the wall, for the devill had beaten him from one wall against another; in one corner lay his eyes, in another his teeth; a pittifull and fearefull sight to behold. Then began the students to waile and weepe for him, and sought for his body in many places. Lastly, they came into the yard, where they found his body lying on the horse-dung, most monstrously torne and fearefull to behold, for his head and all his joynts were dashed in peeces. The fore-named students and masters that were at his death, have obtained so much, that they buried him in the village where he was so grievously tormented. After the which they returned to Wittenberg; and comming into the house of Faustus, they found the servant of Faustus very sad, unto whom they opened all the matter, who tooke it exceeding heavily. There found they also this history of Doctor Faustus noted and of him written, as is before declared, all save only his end, the which was after by the students thereto annexed; further, what his servant had noted thereof, was made in another booke. And you have heard that he held by him in his life the spirit of faire Helena, the which had by him one sonne, the which he named Justus Faustus: even the same day of his death they vanished away, both mother and sonne. The house before was so darke that scarce any body could abide therein. The same night Doctor Faustus appeared unto his servant lively, and shewed unto him many secret things, the which he had done and hidden in his lifetime. Likewise there were certaine which saw Doctor Faustus looke out of the window by night, as they passed by the house." Sig. K 3, ed. 1648.] Original Comments on the preparation of the E-Text: SQUARE BRACKETS: The square brackets, i.e. [ ] are copied from the printed book, without change. The open [Exit brackets use in the book have been closed [by mh]. For this E-Text version of the book, the footnotes have been consolidated at the end of the play. Numbering of the footnotes has been changed, and each footnote is given a unique identity in the form [XXX]. CHANGES TO THE TEXT: Character names were expanded. For Example, SECOND SCHOLAR was SEC. SCHOL. 
45806	----	[Transcriber Notes: Obvious misspellings and omissions have been corrected. The original text displayed the two versions, English and French, in two column format, English on left, French on right. This e-text lists the English version first, followed by the French version. The [oe] ligature has been replaced with simply "oe". Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by underscores.] [Illustration] GRAND OPERA LIBRETTOS FRENCH AND ENGLISH TEXT AND MUSIC OF THE PRINCIPAL AIRS FAUST BY GOUNOD Boston: OLIVER DITSON COMPANY: New York LYON & HEALY, INC. _Chicago_ WINTHROP ROGERS, LTD. _London_ OPERA SCORES All the vocal scores have English text together with the foreign text mentioned below. Unless otherwise specified, these books are bound in paper. GRAND OPERAS =AÏDA= =Giuseppe Verdi= =2.50= In four acts. Italian text =BOHEMIAN GIRL= =Michael W. Balfe= =2.00= In three acts =CARMEN= =Georges Bizet= =2.50= In four acts. French text =CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA= =Pietro Mascagni= =2.00= In one act. Italian text =FAUST= =Charles Gounod= =2.00= In five acts. French text =LAKMÉ= =Léo Delibes= =3.00= In three acts =MARITANA= =William Vincent Wallace= =2.50= In three acts =MIGNON= =Ambroise Thomas= =2.50= In three acts. Italian text =SAMSON AND DELILAH= =Camille Saint-Saëns= =2.50= In three acts =TROVATORE, IL= =Giuseppe Verdi= =2.00= In four acts. Italian text LIGHT OPERAS =BELLS OF CORNEVILLE, THE; or, THE CHIMES OF NORMANDY= In three acts =Robert Planquette= =2.50= =BILLEE TAYLOR; or, THE REWARD OF VIRTUE= In two acts =Edward Solomon= =1.50= =BOCCACCIO; or, THE PRINCE OF PALERMO= In three acts =Franz von Suppé= =2.50= =DOCTOR OF ALCANTARA, THE= In two acts =Julius Eichberg= =1.50= =FATINITZA= =Franz von Suppé= =2.50= In three acts. German and Italian text =MARTHA= =Friedrich von Flotow= =2.50= In four acts. German and Italian text =MASCOT, THE= =Edmond Audran= =2.50= In three acts =OLIVETTE= =Edmond Audran= =2.00= In three acts =PINAFORE, H. M. S.; or, THE LASS THAT LOVED A SAILOR= In two acts =Sir Arthur Sullivan= =1.50= =SORCERER, THE= =Sir Arthur Sullivan= =1.75= In two acts =STRADELLA= =Friedrich von Flotow= =2.00= In three acts Send for Descriptive Circular P--Oratorios, Cantatas, Operas and Operettas. OLIVER DITSON COMPANY FAUST _A LYRIC DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS_ BOOK BY J. BARBIER AND M. CARRÉ MUSIC BY CHARLES GOUNOD 30 BOSTON: OLIVER DITSON COMPANY: NEW YORK CHICAGO: LYON & HEALY, INC. LONDON: WINTHROP ROGERS, LTD. COPYRIGHT MCMVI BY OLIVER DITSON COMPANY CHARACTERS FAUST _Tenor_ MEPHISTOPHELES _Bass-Baritone_ VALENTINE, MARGUERITE'S BROTHER _Baritone_ WAGNER, A STUDENT _Baritone_ MARGUERITE _Soprano_ SIEBEL, A YOUTH _Soprano_ MARTHA, FRIEND OF MARGUERITE _Mezzo-Soprano_ PEASANTS, TOWNSPEOPLE, SOLDIERS, STUDENTS, PRIESTS, BOYS, ETC. The scene is in Germany in the sixteenth century. PREFATORY NOTE The legend of the magician Faust and his compact with the Devil comes from remote antiquity. At first in the form of folk tales in many lands, through ballads and the primitive drama it found its way into literature. It remained for the master-poet, Goethe, to fuse all the elements of the legend into an imaginative drama of unequaled ethical and poetic interest, to give the story the form in which it appeals most strongly to the modern mind. Innumerable musical works of every form have drawn inspiration from the story of Faust. Wagner's concert-overture, Liszt's symphony, and the beautiful fragments by Schumann are among the noblest of such works. Stage versions of the legend have been numerous, but the first really poetic creation was Spohr's opera of "Faust," composed in 1813. Since its appearance there has been an abundance of Faust operas by English, German, French and Italian composers down to the imaginative but fragmentary "Mefistofele" of Boito (1868). But of all the stage versions that have claimed the public attention, that of Barbier and Carré, made after Goethe's drama and set to music by Charles Gounod, is far and away the most popular, and may be regarded, in its lyric dress, as the most successful also. There exists scarcely a single rival to the popularity of Gounod's "Faust" among opera-goers. The love story with which the French librettists concerned themselves exclusively is wholly Goethe's conception, and finds no place in the old legends concerning the magician Faust. With true Gallic instinct they seized this pathetic episode as being best adapted for a lyric setting, and making the most potent appeal to the emotions of the spectators. But to the composer himself is due the credit of suggesting the story of Faust as a suitable subject for musical treatment. THE STORY OF THE ACTION ACT I.--Faust, an aged philosopher, who has grown weary of life, and of the vain search for the source of all knowledge, decides, after a nightlong vigil, to end his existence by taking poison. In the act of raising the cup to his lips his hand is arrested by the sound of merry voices of maidens singing in the early morning of the joy of living. Again he essays to drink, but pauses to listen to the song of the reapers on their way to the fields, voicing their gratitude to God. Excited to a frenzy of rage, Faust curses all that is good and calls upon the Evil One to aid him. Mephistopheles appears, and offers gold, glory, boundless power; but the aged doctor craves youth, its passions and delights. The fiend agrees that all shall be his if he but sign a compact, by which the devil serves Faust on earth, but in the hereafter below the relation is to be reversed. Faust wavers at first, but a vision of Marguerite appears, which inflames his ardor and dispels his hesitation; he drinks the potion and is transformed into a young and handsome man. ACT II.--A Kermesse or town fair. Groups of students, soldiers, old men, maids and matrons fill the scene. Valentine, the brother of Marguerite, about to leave for the wars, commends his sister to the care of Siebel, who timidly adores her. While Wagner, a student, is attempting a song, he is interrupted by Mephistopheles who volunteers to sing him a better one (the mocking "Calf of Gold"). Then the fiend causes a fiery liquor to flow miraculously from the tavern sign, and proposes the health of Marguerite. Valentine resents the insult, but his sword is broken in his hand, and Mephistopheles draws a magic circle around himself and bids defiance to the rapiers of the soldiers. These, now suspecting his evil nature, hold their cruciform sword-hilts toward Mephistopheles, who cowers away at the holy symbol. The fête is resumed; in the midst of the revelry Marguerite enters, returning home from church. Faust offers to escort her home, but she timidly declines his assistance, and leaves him enamoured of her beauty. The act closes with a merry dance of the townspeople. ACT III.--The scene shows the garden of Marguerite's dwelling. Siebel enters to leave a nosegay on the doorstep of his charmer. The flowers he plucks wither at his touch, due to an evil spell cast upon him by the fiend, which he, however, breaks by dipping his hand in holy water. Faust and Mephistopheles conceal themselves in the garden after having left a casket of jewels on the doorstep near Siebel's modest offering. Marguerite returns home and seats herself at the spinning-wheel, singing the while a song of the "King of Thule." But she interrupts the song to dream of the handsome stranger who had spoken to her at the fête. Upon discovering the jewels, she cannot forbear to adorn herself. While thus occupied, Faust and his evil ally appear. The latter engages the girl's flighty neighbor, Martha, in conversation, while Faust pleads his passion's cause successfully with Marguerite. ACT IV.--Betrayed and deserted by her lover, Marguerite must bear the scorn of her former companions. Siebel alone is faithful, and speaks comforting words. She goes to the church to pray; but her supplications are interrupted by the mocking fiend at her elbow, by the accusing cries of demons, and by the stern chants of the worshipers. Finally Mephistopheles appears to the sight of the wretched girl, who swoons with terror. The return of the victorious soldiers brings back Valentine, who hears evil stories of his sister's condition. Aroused by an insulting serenade which Mephistopheles, accompanied by Faust, sings beneath Marguerite's window, Valentine engages in a duel with the latter and is wounded to the death. Dying, he curses Marguerite, who comes from the church to his side, and accuses her of bringing him to his end. ACT V.--Marguerite, her reason shaken by her misfortunes, has killed her child, and for this crime she is thrown into prison, and condemned to die. Faust, aided by Mephistopheles, obtains access to her cell and urges her to fly with him; but her poor mind cannot grasp the situation, and recurs only to the scenes of their love. When she sees Faust's companion, she turns from him in horror, falls upon her knees, and implores the mercy of heaven. As she sinks in death, Mephistopheles pronounces her damned, but a heavenly voice proclaims her pardoned; and while a celestial choir chants the Easter hymn the soul of Marguerite is seen borne up to heaven by angels. Faust falls to his knees, and the devil crouches beneath the shining sword of an archangel. First performed at the Théâtre Lyrique, Paris, March 19, 1859, with the following cast: LE DOCTEUR FAUST _MM. Barbot_ MÉPHISTOPHÉLÈS _Balanqué_ VALENTIN _Reynald_ WAGNER _Cibot_ MARGUERITE _Mmes. Miolan-Carvalho_ SIEBEL _Faivre_ MARTHA _Duclos_ ACT I. SCENE I. _Faust's Study._ (Night. FAUST discovered, alone. He is seated at a table covered with books and parchments; an open book lies before him. His lamp is flickering in the socket.) _Faust._ No! In vain hath my soul aspired, with ardent longing, All to know,--all in earth and heaven. No light illumines the visions, ever thronging My brain; no peace is given, And I linger, thus sad and weary, Without power to sunder the chain Binding my soul to life always dreary. Nought do I see! Nought do I know! (He closes the book and rises. Day begins to dawn.) Again 'tis light! On its westward course flying, The somber night vanishes. (Despairingly.) Again the light of a new day! O death! when will thy dusky wings Above me hover and give me--rest? (Seizing a flask on the table.) Well, then! Since death thus evades me, Why should I not go in search of him? Hail, my final day, all hail! No fears my heart assail; On earth my days I number; For this draught immortal slumber Will secure me, and care dispel! (Pours liquid from the flask into a crystal goblet. Just as he is about to raise it to his lips, the following chorus is heard, without.) _Cho. of Maidens._ Why thy eyes so lustrous Hidest thou from sight? Bright Sol now is scatt'ring Beams of golden light; The nightingale is warbling Its carol of love; Rosy tints of morning Now gleam from above; Flow'rs unfold their beauty To the scented gale; Nature all awakens-- Of love tells its tale. _Faust._ Hence, empty sounds of human joys Flee far from me. O goblet, which my ancestors So many times have filled, Why tremblest thou in my grasp? (Again raising the goblet to his lips.) _Cho. of Laborers_ (without). The morn into the fields doth summon us, The swallow hastes away! Why tarry, then? To labor let's away! to work let's on, The sky is bright, the earth is fair, Our tribute, then, let's pay to heav'n. _Cho. of Maidens and Laborers._ Praises to God! _Faust._ God! God! (He sinks into a chair.) But this God, what will he do for me? (Rising.) Will he return to me youth, love, and faith? (With rage.) Cursed be all of man's vile race! Cursed be the chains which bind him in his place! Cursed be visions false, deceiving! Cursed the folly of believing! Cursed be dreams of love or hate! Cursed be souls with joy elate. Cursed be science, prayer, and faith! Cursed my fate in life and death! Infernal king, arise! * * * * * SCENE II. FAUST AND MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ (suddenly appearing). Here am I! So, I surprise you? SATAN, Sir, at your service! A sword at my side; on my hat a gay feather;-- A cloak o'er my shoulder; and altogether, Why, gotten up quite in the fashion! (Briskly.) But come, Doctor Faust, what is your will? Behold! Speak! Are you afraid of me? _Faust._ No. _Mep._ Do you doubt my power? _Faust._ Perhaps. _Mep._ Prove it, then. _Faust._ Begone! _Mep._ Fie! Fie! Is this your politeness! But learn, my friend, that with Satan One should conduct in a different way. I've entered your door with infinite trouble. Would you kick me out the very same day? _Faust._ Then what will you do for me? _Mep._ Anything in the world! All things. But Say first what you would have. Abundance of gold? _Faust._ And what can I do with riches? _Mep._ Good. I see where the shoe pinches. You will have glory. _Faust._ Still wrong. _Mep._ Power, then. _Faust._ No. I would have a treasure Which contains all. I wish for youth. Oh! I would have pleasure, And love, and caresses, For youth is the season When joy most impresses. One round of enjoyment, One scene of delight, Should be my employment From day-dawn till night. Oh, I would have pleasure, And love, and caresses; If youth you restore me, My joys I'll renew! _Mep._ 'Tis well--all thou desirest I can give thee. _Faust._ Ah! but what must I give in return? _Mep._ 'Tis but little: In this world I will be thy slave, But down below thou must be mine. _Faust._ Below! _Mep._ Below. (Unfolding a scroll.) Come, write. What! does thy hand tremble? Whence this dire trepidation? 'Tis youth that now awaits thee--Behold! (At a sign from MEPHISTOPHELES, the scene opens and discloses MARGUERITE, spinning.) _Faust._ Oh, wonder! _Mep._ Well, how do you like it? (Taking parchment.) _Faust._ Give me the scroll! (Signs.) _Mep._ Come on then! And now, master, (Taking cup from the table.) I invite thee to empty a cup, In which there is neither poison nor death, But young and vigorous life. _Faust._ (Taking cup and turning toward Marguerite.) O beautiful, adorable vision! I drink to thee! (He drinks the contents of the cup, and is transformed into a young and handsome man. The vision disappears.) _Mep._ Come, then. _Faust._ Say, shall I again behold her? _Mep._ Most surely! _Faust._ When? _Mep._ This very day! _Faust._ 'Tis well. _Mep._ Then let's away. _Both._ 'Tis pleasure I covet, 'Tis beauty I crave; I sigh for its kisses, Its love I demand! With ardor unwonted I long now to burn; I sigh for the rapture Of heart and of sense. (Exeunt. The curtain falls.) ACT II. SCENE I. _The Kermesse._ (One of the city gates. To the left, an Inn, bearing the sign of the god Bacchus.) WAGNER, Students, Burghers, Soldiers, Maidens, and Matrons. _Studs._ Wine or beer, now, which you will! So the glass quick you fill! And replenish at our need: At our bouts we drink with speed! _Wag._ Now, young tipplers at the cask, Don't refuse what I ask-- Drink to glory! drink to love! Drain the sparkling glass! _Studs._ We young tipplers at the cask Won't refuse what you ask-- Here's to glory! here's to love! Drain the sparkling glass! (They drink.) _Soldiers._ Castles, hearts, or fortresses, Are to us all one. Strong towers, maids with fair tresses, By the brave are won; He, who hath the art to take them, Shows no little skill; He, who knows the way to keep them, Hath more wisdom still. _Citizens._ On holy-days and feast-days, I love to talk of war and battles. While the toiling crowds around Worry their brains with affairs, I stroll calmly to this retreat On the banks of the gliding river, And behold the boats which pass While I leisurely empty my glass. (Citizens and soldiers go to back of stage.) (A group of young girls enters.) _Girls._ Merry fellows come this way, Yes, they now advance; Let us, then, our steps delay, Just to take one glance. (They go to right of stage. A second chorus of students enters after them.) _Studs._ Sprightly maidens now advance, Watch their conquering airs; Friends be guarded, lest a glance Take you unawares. _Matrons._ (watching the students and young girls). Behold the silly damsels, And the foolish young men; We were once as young as they are, And as pretty again. (All join in the following chorus, each singing as follows.) _Mats._ (to the Maidens). Ye strive hard to please, Your object is plain. _Studs._ Beer or wine, wine or beer, Nought care I, with heart of cheer. _Soldiers._ On, then, let's on; Brave soldiers are we, To conquest we'll on. _Citizens._ Come, neighbor! In this fine weather Let us empty a bottle together! _Maidens._ They wish to please us, but 'tis in vain! If you are angry, little you'll gain. _Young Students._ They are bright little maidens, 'tis plain; We'll contrive their favor to gain. (The soldiers and students, laughing, separate the women. All the groups depart.) * * * * * SCENE II. WAGNER, SIEBEL, VALENTINE, Students, and afterwards MEPHISTOPHELES. _Val._ (advancing from the back of the stage and holding in his hand a small silver medal). O sacred medallion, Gift of my sister dear To ward off danger and fear, As I charge with my brave battalion, Rest thou upon my heart. _Wag._ Here comes Valentine, in search of us, doubtless. _Val._ Let us drain the parting cup, comrades, It is time we were on the road. _Wag._ What sayst thou? Why this sorrowful farewell? _Val._ Like you, I soon must quit these scenes, Leaving behind me Marguerite. Alas! my mother no longer lives, To care for and protect her. _Sie._ More than one friend hast thou Who faithfully will thy place supply. _Val._ My thanks! _Sie._ On me you may rely. _Stud._ In us thou surely mayst confide. _Val._ Even bravest heart may swell In the moment of farewell. Loving smile of sister kind, Quiet home I leave behind. Oft shall I think of you Whene'er the wine-cup passes round, When alone my watch I keep. But when danger to glory shall call me, I still will be first in the fray, As blithe as a knight in his bridal array. Careless what fate shall befall me When glory shall call me. _Wag._ Come on, friends! No tears nor vain alarms; Quaff we good wine, to the success of our arms! Drink, boys, drink! In a joyous refrain Bid farewell, till we meet again. _Cho._ We'll drink! Fill high! Once more in song our voices Let us raise. _Wag._ (mounting on a table). A rat, more coward than brave, And with an exceedingly ugly head, Lodged in a sort of hole or cave, Under an ancient hogshead. A cat-- * * * * * SCENE III. MEPHISTOPHELES and the preceding. _Mep._ (appearing suddenly among the students and interrupting WAGNER). Good sir! _Wag._ What! _Mep._ If it so please ye I should wish To mingle with ye a short time. If your good friend will kindly end his song, I'll tell ye a few things well worth the hearing. _Wag._ One will suffice, but let that one be good. _Mep._ My utmost I will do Your worships not to bore. I. Calf of Gold! aye in all the world To your mightiness they proffer, Incense at your fane they offer From end to end of all the world. And in honor of the idol Kings and peoples everywhere To the sound of jingling coins Dance with zeal in festive circle, Round about the pedestal. Satan, he conducts the ball. II. Calf of Gold, strongest god below! To his temple overflowing Crowds before his vile shape bowing, The monster dares insult the skies. With contempt he views around him All the vaunted human race, As they strive in abject toil, As with souls debased they circle Round about the pedestal. Satan, he conducts the ball. _All._ Satan, he conducts the ball. _Cho._ A strange story this of thine. _Val._ (aside). And stranger still is he who sings it. _Wag._ (offering a cup to MEPHISTOPHELES). Will you honor us by partaking of wine? _Mep._ With pleasure. Ah! (Taking WAGNER by the hand, and scrutinizing his palm.) Behold what saddens me to view. See you this line? _Wag._ Well! _Mep._ A sudden death it presages,-- You will be killed in mounting to th' assault! _Sie._ You are then a sorcerer! _Mep._ Even so. And your own hand shows plainly To what fate condemns. What flower you would gather Shall wither in the grasp. _Sie._ I? _Mep._ No more bouquets for Marguerite. _Val._ My sister! How knew you her name? _Mep._ Take care, my brave fellow! Some one I know is destined to kill you. (Taking the cup.) Your health, gentlemen! Pah! What miserable wine! Allow me to offer you some from my cellar? (Jumps on the table, and strikes on a little cask, surmounted by the effigy of the god Bacchus, which serves as a sign to the Inn.) What ho! thou god of wine, now give us drink! (Wine gushes forth from cask, and MEPHISTOPHELES fills his goblet.) Approach, my friends! Each one shall be served to his liking. To your health, now and hereafter! To Marguerite! _Val._ Enough! If I do not silence him, And that instantly, I will die. (The wine bursts into flame.) _Wag._ Hola! _Cho._ Hola! (They draw their swords.) _Mep._ Ah, ha! Why do you tremble so, you who menace me? (He draws a circle around him with his sword. VALENTINE attacks; his sword is broken.) _Val._ My sword, O amazement! Is broken asunder. _All_ (forcing MEPHISTOPHELES to retire by holding toward him the cross-shaped handles of their swords). Gainst the powers of evil our arms assailing, Strongest earthly might is unavailing. But thou canst not charm us, Look hither! While this blest sign we wear Thou canst not harm us. (Exeunt.) * * * * * SCENE IV. MEPHISTOPHELES, then FAUST. _Mep._ (replacing his sword). We'll meet anon, good sirs,--adieu! _Faust_ (enters). Why, what has happened? _Mep._ Oh, nothing! let us change the subject! Say, Doctor, what would you of me? With what shall we begin? _Faust._ Where bides the beauteous maid Thine art did show to me? Or was't mere witchcraft? _Mep._ No, but her virtue doth protect her from thee, And heaven itself would keep her pure. _Faust._ It matters not! Come, lead me to her, Or I straightway abandon thee. _Mep._ Then I'll comply! 'twere pity you should think So meanly of the magic power which I possess. Have patience! and to this joyous tune. Right sure am I, the maiden will appear. * * * * * SCENE V. (Students, with Maidens on their arms, preceded by Musicians, take possession of the stage. Burghers in the rear, as at the commencement of the act.) Students, Maidens, Burghers, etc., afterwards SIEBEL and MARGUERITE. _Cho._ (marking waltz time with their feet). As the wind that sportively plays, At first will light dust only raise, Yet, at last, becomes a gale, So our dancing and our singing, Soft at first, then loudly ringing, Will resound o'er hill and dale. (The Musicians mount upon the table, and dancing begins.) _Mep._ (to FAUST). See those lovely young maidens. Will you not ask of them To accept you? _Faust._ No! desist from thy idle sport, And leave my heart free to reflection. _Sie._ (entering). Marguerite this way alone can arrive. _Some of the Maidens_ (approaching SIEBEL). Pray seek you a partner to join in the dance? _Sie._ No: it has no charm for me. _Cho._ As the wind that sportively plays, At first will light dust only raise, Yet, at last, becomes a gale, So our dancing and our singing, Soft at first, then loudly ringing, Will resound o'er hill and dale. (MARGUERITE enters.) _Faust._ It is she! behold her! _Mep._ 'Tis well! now, then, approach! _Sie._ (perceiving MARGUERITE and approaching her). Marguerite! _Mep._ (turning round and finding himself face to face with SIEBEL). What say you? _Sie._ (aside). Malediction! here again! _Mep._ (coaxingly). What, here again, dear boy? (laughing). Ha, ha! a right good jest! (SIEBEL retreats before MEPHISTOPHELES, who then compels him to make a circuit of the stage, passing behind the dancers.) _Faust_ (approaching MARGUERITE, who crosses the stage). Will you not permit me, my fairest demoiselle, To offer you my arm, and clear for you the way? _Mar._ No, sir. I am no demoiselle, neither am I fair; And I have no need to accept your offered arm. (Passes FAUST and retires.) _Faust_ (gazing after her). What beauty! What grace! What modesty! O lovely child, I love thee! I love thee! _Sie._ (coming forward, without having seen what has occurred). She has gone! (He is about to hurry after MARGUERITE, when he suddenly finds himself face to face with MEPHISTOPHELES--he hastily turns away and leaves the stage.) _Mep._ Well, Doctor! _Faust._ Well. She has repulsed me. _Mep._ (laughing). Ay, truly, I see, in love, You know not how to make the first move. (He retires with FAUST, in the direction taken by MARGUERITE.) _Some of the Maidens_ (who have noticed the meeting between FAUST and MARGUERITE). What is it? _Others._ Marguerite. She has refused the escort Of yonder elegant gentleman. _Studs._ (approaching). Waltz again! _Maidens._ Waltz always! ACT III. SCENE I. MARGUERITE's Garden. (At the back a wall, with a little door. To the left a bower. On the right a pavilion, with a window facing the audience. Trees, shrubs, etc.) SIEBEL, alone. (He enters through the little door at the back, and stops on the threshold of the pavilion, near a group of roses and lilies.) _Sie._ I. Gently whisper to her of love, dear flow'r; Tell her that I adore her, And for me, oh, implore her, For my heart feels alone for her love's pow'r. Say in sighing I languish, That for her, in my anguish, Beats alone, dearest flow'r, My aching heart. (Plucks flowers.) Alas! they are wither'd! (Throws them away.) Can the accursed wizard's words be true? (Plucks another flower, which, on touching his hand, immediately withers.) "Thou shalt ne'er touch flower again But it shall wither!" I'll bathe my hand in holy water! (Approaches the pavilion, and dips his fingers in a little font suspended to the wall.) When day declines, Marguerite hither Comes to pray, so we'll try again. (Plucks more flowers.) Are they wither'd? No! Satan, thou art conquer'd! II. In these flowers alone I've faith, For they will plead for me; To her they will reveal My hapless state. The sole cause of my woe is she, And yet she knows it not. But in these flowers I've faith, For they will plead for me. (Plucks flowers in order to make a bouquet, and disappears amongst the shrubs.) * * * * * SCENE II. MEPHISTOPHELES, FAUST, and SIEBEL. _Faust._ (cautiously entering through the garden door). We are here! _Mep_. Follow me. _Faust._ Whom dost thou see? _Mep._ Siebel, your rival. _Faust._ Siebel? _Mep._ Hush! He comes. (They enter the bower.) _Sie._ (entering with a bouquet in his hand). My bouquet is charming indeed? _Mep._ (aside). It is indeed! _Sie._ Victory! Tomorrow I'll reveal all to her. I will disclose to her the secret That lies concealed in my heart: A kiss will tell the rest. _Mep._ (aside, mockingly). Seducer! (Exit SIEBEL, after fastening bouquet to the door of the pavilion.) * * * * * SCENE III. FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ Now attend, my dear doctor! To keep company with the flowers of our friend, I go to bring you a treasure, Which outshines them beyond measure, And of beauty past believing. _Faust._ Leave me! _Mep._ I obey. Deign to await me here. (Disappears.) * * * * * SCENE IV. FAUST. _Faust._ (alone). What new emotion penetrates my soul! Love, a pure and holy love, pervades my being. O Marguerite, behold me at thy feet! All hail, thou dwelling pure and lowly, Home of an angel fair and holy, All mortal beauty excelling! What wealth is here, a wealth outbidding gold, Of peace, and love, and innocence untold! Bounteous Nature! 'twas here by day thy love was taught her, Thou here with kindly care didst o'er-shadow thy daughter Through hours of night! Here waving tree and flower Made her an Eden bower Of beauty and delight, For one whose very birth Brought down heaven to our earth. All hail, thou dwelling pure and lowly, Home of an angel fair and holy. * * * * * SCENE V. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ (carrying a casket under his arm). What ho! see here! If flowers are more potent than bright jewels, Then I consent to lose my power. (Opens the casket and displays the jewels.) _Faust._ Let us fly; I ne'er will see her more. _Mep._ What scruple now assails thee? (Lays the casket on the threshold of the pavilion.) See on yonder step, The jewels snugly lie; We've reason now to hope. (Draws FAUST after him, and disappears in the garden. MARGUERITE enters through the doorway at the back, and advances silently to the front.) * * * * * SCENE VI. MARGUERITE. _Mar._ (alone). Fain would I know the name Of the fair youth I met? Fain would I his birth And station also know? (Seats herself at her wheel in the arbor, and arranges the flax upon the spindle.) I. "Once there was a king in Thulé, Who was until death always faithful, And in memory of his loved one Caused a cup of gold to be made." (Breaking off.) His manner was so gentle! 'Twas true politeness. (Resuming the song.) "Never treasure prized he so dearly, Naught else would use on festive days, And always when he drank from it, His eyes with tears would be o'erflowing." II. (She rises, and takes a few paces.) "When he knew that death was near, As he lay on his cold couch smiling, Once more he raised with greatest effort To his lips the golden vase." (Breaking off.) I knew not what to say, my face red with blushes! (Resuming the song.) "And when he, to honor his lady, Drank from the cup the last, last time, Soon falling from his trembling grasp, Then gently passed his soul away." Nobles alone can bear them with so bold a mien, So tender, too, withal! (She goes toward the pavilion.) I'll think of him no more! Good Valentine! If heav'n heeds my prayer, we shall meet again. Meanwhile I am alone! (Suddenly perceiving the bouquet attached to the door of the pavilion.) Flowers! (Unfastens the bouquet.) They are Siebel's, surely! Poor faithful boy! (Perceiving the casket.) But what is this? From whom did this splendid casket come? I dare not touch it-- Yet see, here is the key!--I'll take one look! How I tremble--yet why?--can it be Much harm just to look in a casket! (Opens the casket and lets the bouquet fall.) Oh, heaven! what jewels! Can I be dreaming? Or am I really awake? Ne'er have I seen such costly things before! (Puts down the casket on a rustic seat, and kneels down in order to adorn herself with the jewels.) I should just like to see How they'd look upon me Those brightly sparkling ear-drops! (Takes out the ear-rings.) Ah! at the bottom of the casket is a glass: I there can see myself!-- But am I not becoming vain? (Puts on the ear-rings, rises, and looks at herself in the glass.) Ah! I laugh, as I pass, to look into a glass; Is it truly Marguerite, then? Is it you? Tell me true! No, no, no, 'tis not you! No, no, that bright face there reflected Must belong to a queen! It reflects some fair queen, whom I greet as I pass her. Ah! could he see me now, Here, deck'd like this, I vow, He surely would mistake me, And for noble lady take me! I'll try on the rest. The necklace and the bracelets I fain would try! (She adorns herself with the bracelets and necklace, then rises.) Heavens! 'Tis like a hand That on mine arm doth rest! Ah! I laugh, as I pass, to look into a glass; Is it truly Marguerite, then? Is it you? Tell me true! No, no, no, 'tis not you! No, no, that bright face there reflected Must belong to a queen! It reflects some fair queen, whom I greet as I pass her. Oh! could he see me now, Here, deck'd like this, I vow, He surely would mistake me, And for noble lady take me! * * * * * SCENE VII. MARGUERITE and MARTHA. _Mart._ Just heaven! what is't I see? How fair you now do seem! Why, what has happened? Who gave to you these jewels? _Mar._ (confused). Alas! by some mistake They have been hither brought. _Mart._ Why so? No, beauteous maiden, These jewels are for you; The gift are they of some enamor'd lord. My husband, I must say, Was of a less generous turn! (MEPHISTOPHELES and FAUST enter.) * * * * * SCENE VIII. MEPHISTOPHELES, FAUST, and the before-named. _Mep._ (making a profound bow). Tell me, I pray, are you Martha Schwerlein? _Mart._ Sir, I am! _Mep._ Pray pardon me, If thus I venture to present myself. (Aside, to FAUST.) You see your presents Are right graciously received. (To MARTHA.) Are you, then, Martha Schwerlein? _Mart._ Sir, I am. _Mep._ The news I bring Is of an unpleasant kind: Your much-loved spouse is dead, And sends you greeting. _Mart._ Great heaven! _Mar._ Why, what has happened? _Mep._ Stuff! (MARGUERITE hastily takes off the jewels, and is about to replace them in the casket.) _Mart._ Oh woe! oh, unexpected news! _Mar._ (aside). How beats my heart Now he is near! _Faust_ (aside). The fever of my love Is lull'd when at her side! _Mep._ (to MARTHA). Your much-loved spouse is dead, And sends you greeting! _Mart._ (to MEPHISTOPHELES). Sent he nothing else to me? _Mep._ (to MARTHA). No. We'll punish him for't; Upon this very day We'll find him a successor. _Faust_ (to MARGUERITE). Wherefore lay aside these jewels? _Mar._ (to FAUST). Jewels are not made for me; 'Tis meet I leave them where they are. _Mep._ (to MARTHA). Who would not gladly unto You present the wedding-ring? _Mart._ (aside). Indeed! (to MEPHISTOPHELES). You think so? _Mep._ (sighing). Ah me! ah, cruel fate! _Faust_ (to MARGUERITE) Pray lean upon mine arm! _Mar._ (retiring). Leave me, I humbly pray! _Mep._ (offering his arm to MARTHA). Take mine! _Mart._ (aside). In sooth, a comely knight! (taking his arm.) _Mep._ (aside). The dame is somewhat tough! (MARGUERITE yields her arm to FAUST, and withdraws with him. MEPHISTOPHELES and MARTHA remain together.) _Mart._ And so you are always traveling! _Mep._ A hard necessity it is, madame! Alone and loveless. Ah! _Mart._ In youth it matters not so much, But in late years 'tis sad indeed! Right melancholy it is in solitude Our olden age to pass! _Mep._ The very thought doth make me shudder. But still, alas! what can I do? _Mart._ If I were you, I'd not delay, But think on't seriously at once. _Mep._ I'll think on't! _Mart._ At once and seriously! (They withdraw. FAUST and MARGUERITE re-enter.) _Faust._ Art always thus alone? _Mar._ My brother is at the wars, My mother dear is dead! By misadventure, too, My dear sister have I lost. Dear sister mine! My greatest happiness was she. Sad sorrows these; When our souls with love are filled, Death tears the loved one from us! At morn, no sooner did she wake, Than I was always at her side! The darling of my life was she! To see her once again, I'd gladly suffer all. _Faust._ If heaven, in joyous mood, Did make her like to thee, An angel must she indeed have been! _Mar._ Thou mock'st me! _Faust._ Nay, I do love thee! _Mar._ (sighing). Flatterer! thou mock'st me! I believe thee not! thou seekest to deceive. No longer will I stay, thy words to hear. _Faust_ (to MARGUERITE). Nay, I do love thee! Stay, oh stay! Heaven hath with an angel crown'd my path. Why fear'st thou to listen? It is my heart that speaks. (Re-enter MEPHISTOPHELES and MARTHA.) _Mart._ (to MEPHISTOPHELES). Of what now are you thinking? You heed me not--perchance you mock me. Now list to what I say.-- You really must not leave us thus! _Mep._ (to MARTHA). Ah, chide me not, if my wanderings I resume. Suspect me not; to roam I am compelled! Need I attest how gladly I remain. I hear but thee alone. (Night comes on.) _Mar._ (to FAUST). It grows dark,--you must away. _Faust_ (embracing her). My loved one! _Mar._ Ah! no more! (Escapes.) _Faust._ Ah, cruel one, would'st fly? (Pursuing her.) _Mep._ (aside, whilst MARTHA angrily turns her back to him). The matter's getting serious, I must away. (Conceals himself behind a tree.) _Mart._ (aside). What's to be done? he's gone! What ho, good sir! (Retires.) _Mep._ Yes, seek for me--that's right! I really do believe The aged beldame would Actually have married Satan! _Faust_ (without). Marguerite! _Mart._ (without). Good sir! _Mep._ Your servant! * * * * * SCENE IX. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ 'Twas high time! By night, protected, In earnest talk of love, They will return! 'Tis well! I'll not disturb Their amorous confabulation! Night, conceal them in thy darkest shade. Love, from their fond hearts Shut out all troublesome remorse. And ye, O flowers of fragrance subtle, This hand accurs'd Doth cause ye all to open! Bewilder the heart of Marguerite! (Disappears amid the darkness.) * * * * * SCENE X. FAUST and MARGUERITE. _Mar._ It groweth late, farewell! _Faust._ I but implore in vain. Let me thy hand take, and clasp it, And behold but thy face once again, Illum'd by that pale light, From yonder moon that shines, O'er thy beauteous features shedding Its faint but golden ray. _Mar._ Oh, what stillness reigns around, Oh, ineffable mystery! Sweetest, happiest feeling, I list; a secret voice Now seems to fill my heart. Still its tone again resoundeth in my bosom. Leave me awhile, I pray. (Stoops and picks a daisy.) _Faust._ What is it thou doest? _Mar._ This flower I consult. (She plucks the petals of the daisy.) _Faust_ (aside). What utters she in tones subdued? _Mar._ He loves me!--no, he loves me not! He loves me!--no!--He loves me! _Faust._ Yes, believe thou this flower, The flower of loves. To thine heart let it tell The truth it would teach,-- He loves thee! Know'st thou not How happy 'tis to love? To cherish in the heart a flame that never dies! To drink forever from the fount of love! _Both._ We'll love for ever! _Faust._ Oh, night of love! oh, radiant night! The bright stars shine above; Oh, joy, this is divine! I love, I do adore thee! _Mar._ Mine idol fond art thou! Speak, speak again! Thine, thine I'll be; For thee I'll gladly die. _Faust._ Oh, Marguerite! _Mar._ (suddenly tearing herself from FAUST'S arms). Ah, leave me! _Faust._ Cruel one! _Mar._ Fly hence! alas! I tremble! _Faust._ Cruel one! _Mar._ Pray leave me! _Faust._ Would'st thou have me leave thee? Ah! see'st thou not my grief? Ah, Marguerite, thou breakest my heart! _Mar._ Go hence! I waver! mercy, pray! Fly hence! alas! I tremble! Break not, I pray, thy Marguerite's heart! _Faust._ In pity-- _Mar._ If to thee I'm dear, I conjure thee, by thy love, By this fond heart, That too readily its secret hath revealed, Yield thee to my prayer,-- In mercy get thee hence! (Kneels at the feet of FAUST.) _Faust_ (after remaining a few moments silent, gently raising her). O fairest child, Angel so holy, Thou shalt control me, Shalt curb my will. I obey; but at morn-- _Mar._ Yes, at morn, Very early. _Faust._ One word at parting. Repeat thou lovest me. _Mar._ Adieu! (Hastens towards the pavilion, then stops short on the threshold, and wafts a kiss to FAUST.) _Faust._ Adieu! Were it already morn! * * * * * SCENE XI. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ Fool! _Faust._ You overheard us? _Mep._ Happily. You have great need, learned Doctor, To be sent again to school. _Faust._ Leave me! _Mep._ Deign first to listen for a moment, To the speech she rehearses to the stars. Dear master, delay. She opens her window. (MARGUERITE opens the window of the pavilion, and remains with her head resting on her hand.) * * * * * SCENE XII. The preceding. MARGUERITE. _Mar._ He loves me! Wildly beats my heart! The night-bird's song, The evening breeze, All nature's sounds together say, "He loves thee!" Ah! sweet, sweet indeed Now is this life to me! Another world it seems; The very ecstasy of love is this! With to-morrow's dawn, Haste thee, oh dear one, Haste thee to return! Yes, come! _Faust._ (rushing to the window, and grasping her hand). Marguerite! MAR. Ah! _Mep._ (mockingly). Ho! ho! (MARGUERITE, overcome, allows her head to fall on FAUST'S shoulder. MEPHISTOPHELES opens the door of the garden, and departs, laughing derisively. The curtain falls.) ACT IV. SCENE I. _Marguerite's Room._ SIEBEL and MARGUERITE. _Sie._ (quietly approaching). Marguerite! _Mar._ Siebel! _Sie._ What, weeping still! _Mar._ Alas! thou alone art kind to me. _Sie._ A mere youth am I. And yet I have a manly heart, And I will sure avenge thee. The seducer's life shall forfeit pay. _Mar._ Whose life? _Sie._ Need I name him? The wretch Who thus hast deserted thee! _Mar._ In mercy, speak not thus! _Sie._ Dost love him still, then? _Mar._ Ay, I love him still! But not to you, good Siebel, should I repeat this tale. _Sie._ I. When all was young, and pleasant May was blooming, I, thy poor friend, took part with thee in play; Now that the cloud of autumn dark is glooming, Now is for me, too, mournful the day. Hope and delight have passed from life away. II. We were not born with true love to trifle, Nor born to part because the wind blows cold. What though the storm the summer garden rifle, Oh, Marguerite! oh, Marguerite! Still on the bough is left a leaf of gold. _Mar._ Bless you, my friend, your sympathy is sweet. The cruel ones who wrong me thus Cannot close against me The gates of the holy temple. Thither will I go to pray For him and for our child. (Exit. SIEBEL follows slowly after.) * * * * * SCENE II. _Interior of a Church._ MARGUERITE, then MEPHISTOPHELES. (Women enter the church and cross the stage. MARGUERITE enters after them, and kneels.) _Mar._ O heaven! Permit thy lowly handmaiden To prostrate herself before thine altar. _Mep._ No, thou shalt not pray! Spirits of evil, haste ye at my call, And drive this woman hence! _Cho. of Demons._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Who calls me? _Cho._ Marguerite! _Mar._ I tremble!--oh, heaven! My last hour is surely nigh! (The tomb opens and discloses MEPHISTOPHELES, who bends over to MARGUERITE's ear.) _Mep._ Remember the glorious days When an angel's wings Protected thy young heart. To church thou camest then to worship, Nor hadst thou then sinned 'gainst heaven. Thy prayers then issued From an unstained heart And on the wings of faith Did rise to the Creator. Hear'st thou their call? 'Tis hell that summons thee! Hell claims thee for its own! Eternal pain, and woe, and tribulation, Will be thy portion! _Mar._ Heaven! what voice is this That in the shade doth speak to me? What mysterious tones are these! _Religious Cho._ When the last day shall have come, The cross in heaven shall shine forth, This world to dust shall crumble. _Mar._ Ah me! more fearful still becomes their song. _Mep._ No pardon hath heaven left for thee! For thee e'en heaven hath no more light! _Religious Cho._ What shall we say unto high heav'n? Who shall protection find When innocence such persecution meets? _Mar._ A heavy weight my breast o'erpowers,-- I can no longer breathe! _Mep._ Nights of love, farewell! Ye days of joy, adieu! Lost, lost for aye art thou! _Mar. and Cho._ Heav'n! hear thou the prayer Of a sad, broken heart! A bright ray send thou From the starry sphere Her anguish to allay! _Mep._ Marguerite, lost, lost art thou! _Mar._ Ah! (He disappears.) * * * * * SCENE III. The Street. VALENTINE, Soldiers, then SIEBEL. _Cho._ Our swords we will suspend Over the paternal hearth; At length we have returned. Sorrowing mothers no longer Will bewail their absent sons. * * * * * SCENE IV. VALENTINE and SIEBEL. _Val._ (perceiving SIEBEL, who enters). Ah, Siebel, is it thou? _Sie._ Dear Valentine! _Val._ Come, then, to my heart! (embracing him). And Marguerite? _Sie._ (confused). Perhaps she's yonder at the church. _Val._ She doubtless prays for my return. Dear girl, how pleased She'll be to hear me tell My warlike deeds! _Cho._ Glory to those who in battle fall, Their bright deeds we can with pride recall. May we, then, honor and fame acquire, Their glorious deeds our hearts will inspire! For that dear native land where we first drew breath, Her sons, at her command proudly brave e'en death. At their sacred demand who on us depend, Our swords we will draw, their rights to defend. Homeward our steps we now will turn,-- Joy and peace await us there! On, on at once, nor loiter here; On, then, our lov'd ones to embrace,-- Affection calls, fond love doth summon us, Yes, many a heart will beat When they our tale shall hear. _Val._ Come, Siebel, we'll to my dwelling And o'er a flask of wine hold converse. (Approaching MARGUERITE'S house.) _Sie._ Nay, enter not! _Val._ Why not, I pray?--Thou turn'st away; Thy silent glance doth seek the ground-- Speak, Siebel--what hath happened? _Sie._ (with an effort.) No! I cannot tell thee! _Val._ What mean'st thou? (Rushing toward house.) _Sie._ (withholding him.) Hold, good Valentine, take heart! _Val._ What is't thou mean'st! (Enters the house.) _Sie._ Forgive her! Shield her, gracious Heaven! (Approaches the church. FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES enter at the back; MEPHISTOPHELES carries a guitar.) * * * * * SCENE V. FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES. (Faust goes towards MARGUERITE's house, but hesitates.) _Mep._ Why tarry ye? Let us enter the house. _Faust._ Peace! I grieve to think that I Brought shame and sorrow hither. _Mep._ Why see her again, then, after leaving her? Some other sight might be more pleasing. To the sabbath let us on. _Faust_ (sighing). Oh, Marguerite! _Mep._ My advice, I know, Availeth but little Against thy stubborn will. Doctor, you need my voice! (Throwing back his mantle, and accompanying himself on the guitar.) I. Maiden, now in peace reposing, From thy sleep awake, Hear my voice with love imploring, Wilt thou pity take? But beware how thou confidest Even in thy friend, Ha! ha! ha! If not for thy wedding finger He a ring doth send. II. Yes, sweet maiden, I implore thee,-- Oh, refuse not this,-- Smile on him who doth adore thee, Bless him with thy kiss. But beware how thou confidest, Even in thy friend, Ha! ha! ha! If not for thy wedding finger He a ring doth send. (VALENTINE rushes from the house.) * * * * * SCENE VI. VALENTINE and the before-named. _Val._ Good sir, what want you here? _Mep._ My worthy fellow, it was not to you That we addressed our serenade! _Val._ My sister, perhaps, would more gladly hear it! (VALENTINE draws his sword, and breaks MEPHISTOPHELES' guitar.) _Faust._ His sister! _Mep._ (to VALENTINE) Why this anger? Do ye not like my singing? _Val._ Your insults cease! From which of ye must I demand Satisfaction for this foul outrage? Which of ye must I now slay? (FAUST draws his sword.) 'Tis he! _Mep._ Your mind's made up, then! On, then, doctor, at him, pray! _Val._ Oh, heaven, thine aid afford, Increase my strength and courage, That in his blood my sword May wipe out this fell outrage! _Faust._ What fear is this unnerves my arm? Why falters now my courage? Dare I to take his life, Who but resents an outrage? _Mep._ His wrath and his courage I laugh alike to scorn! To horse, then, for his last journey The youth right soon will take! _Val._ (taking in his hand the medallion suspended round his neck). Thou gift of Marguerite, Which till now hath ever saved me, I'll no more of thee--I cast thee hence! Accursed gift, I throw thee from me! (Throws it angrily away.) _Mep._ (aside). Thou'll repent it! _Val._ (to FAUST). Come on, defend thyself! _Mep._ (to FAUST, in a whisper). Stand near to me, and attack him only; I'll take care to parry! (They fight.) _Val._ (falling). Ah! _Mep._ Behold our hero, Lifeless on the ground! Come, we must hence--quick, fly! (Exit, dragging FAUST after him.) * * * * * SCENE VII. (Enter Citizens, with lighted torches; afterwards SIEBEL and MARGUERITE.) _Cho._ Hither, hither, come this way-- They're fighting here hard by! See, one has fallen; The unhappy man lies prostrate there. Ah! he moves--yes, still he breathes; Quick, then, draw nigh To raise and succor him! _Val._ 'Tis useless, cease these vain laments. Too often have I gazed On death, to heed it When my own time hath come! (MARGUERITE appears at the back, supported by SIEBEL.) _Mar._ (advancing, and falling on her knees at VALENTINE's side). Valentine! ah, Valentine! _Val._ (thrusting her from him). Marguerite! What would'st thou here?--away! _Mar._ O heav'n! _Val._ For her I die! Poor fool! I thought to chastise her seducer! _Cho._ (in a low voice, pointing to MARGUERITE). He dies, slain by her seducer! _Mar._ Fresh grief is this! ah, bitter punishment. _Sie._ Have pity on her, pray! _Val._ (supported by those around him). Marguerite, give ear awhile; That which was decreed Hath duly come to pass. Death comes at its good pleasure: All mortals must obey its behest. But for you intervenes an evil life! Those white hands will never work more; The labors and sorrows that others employ, Will be forgotten in hours of joy. Darest thou live, ingrate? Darest thou still exist? Go! Shame overwhelm thee! Remorse follow thee! At length _thy_ hour will sound. Die! And if God pardons thee hereafter, So may this life be a continual curse! _Cho._ Terrible wish! Unchristian thought! In thy last sad hour, unfortunate! Think of thy own soul's welfare. Forgive, if thou wouldst be forgiven. _Val._ Marguerite; I curse you! Death awaits me. I die by your hand; but I die a soldier. (Dies.) _Cho._ God receive thy spirit! God pardon thy sins! (Curtain.) ACT V. SCENE I. A Prison. MARGUERITE asleep; FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust._ Go! get thee hence! _Mep._ The morn appears, black night is on the wing. Quickly prevail upon Marguerite to follow thee. The jailer soundly sleeps--here is the key, Thine own hand now can ope the door. _Faust._ Good! Get thee gone! _Mep._ Be sure thou tarry not! I will keep watch without. (Exit.) _Faust._ With grief my heart is wrung! Oh, torture! oh, source of agony And remorse eternal! Behold her there The good, the beauteous girl, Cast like a criminal Into this vile dungeon; Grief must her reason have disturbed, For, with her own hand, alas! Her child she slew! Oh, Marguerite! _Mar._ (waking). His voice did sure Unto my heart resound. (Rises.) _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ At that glad sound it wildly throbs again Amid the mocking laugh of demons. _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Now am I free. He is here. It is his voice. Yes, thou art he whom I love. Fetters, death, have no terrors for me; Thou hast found me. Thou hast returned. Now am I saved! Now rest I on thy heart! _Faust._ Yes, I am here, and I love thee, In spite of the efforts of yon mocking demon. (FAUST attempts to draw her with him. She gently disengages herself from his arms.) _Mar._ Stay! this is the spot Where one day thou didst meet me. Thine hand sought mine to clasp. "Will you not permit me, my fairest demoiselle, To offer you my arm, and clear for you the way?" "No, sir. I am no demoiselle, neither am I fair; And I have no need to accept your offered arm." _Faust._ What is't she says? Ah me! Ah me! _Mar._ And the garden I love is here, Odorous of myrtle and roses, Where every eve thou camest in With careful step, as night was falling. _Faust._ Come, Marguerite, let us fly! _Mar._ No! stay a moment! _Faust._ O heav'n, she does not understand! * * * * * SCENE II. MEPHISTOPHELES and the preceding. _Mep._ Away at once, while yet there's time! If longer ye delay, Not e'en my power can save ye. _Mar._ See'st thou yon demon crouching in the shade? His deadly glance is fixed on us; Quick! drive him from these sacred walls. _Mep._ Away! leave we this spot, The dawn hath appeared; Hear'st thou not the fiery chargers, As with sonorous hoof they paw the ground? (Endeavoring to drag FAUST with him.) Haste ye, then,--perchance there yet Is time to save her! _Mar._ O Heaven, I crave thy help! Thine aid alone I do implore! (Kneeling.) Holy angels, in heaven bless'd, My spirit longs with ye to rest! Great Heaven, pardon grant, I implore thee, For soon shall I appear before thee! _Faust._ Marguerite! Follow me, I implore! _Mar._ Holy angels, in heaven bless'd, My spirit longs with ye to rest! Great Heaven, pardon grant, I implore thee, For soon shall I appear before thee! _Faust._ O Marguerite! _Mar._ Why that glance with anger fraught? _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ What blood is that which stains thy hand! Away! thy sight doth cause me horror! (Falls.) _Mep._ Condemned! _Cho._ Saved! Christ hath arisen! Christ hath arisen! Christ is born again! Peace and felicity To all disciples of the Master! Christ hath arisen! (The prison walls open. The soul of MARGUERITE rises towards heaven. FAUST gazes despairingly after her, then falls on his knees and prays. MEPHISTOPHELES turns away, barred by the shining sword of an archangel.) END OF THE OPERA. ACTE PREMIER. SCÈNE PREMIERE. _Le Cabinet de Faust._ (FAUST, seul. Sa lampe est près de s'eteindre. Il est assis devant une table chargée de parchemins. Un livre est ouvert devant lui.) _Faust._ Rien!...--En vain j'interroge, en mon ardente veille, La nature et le Créateur; Pas une voix ne glisse à mon oreille Un mot consolateur! J'ai langui triste et solitaire, Sans pouvoir briser le lien Qui m'attache encore à la terre!... Je ne vois rien!--Je ne sais rien!... (Il ferme le livre et se lève. Le jour commence à naitre.) Le ciel pâlit!--Devant l'aube nouvelle La sombre nuit S'évanouit!... (Avec désespoir.) Encore un jour!--encore un jour qui luit!... O mort, quand viendras-tu m'abriter sous ton aile? (Saisissant une fiole sur la table.) Eh bien! puisque la mort me fuit, Pourquoi n'irais-je pas vers elle?... Salut! ô mon dernier matin! J'arrive sans terreur au terme du voyage; Et je suis, avec ce breuvage, Le seul maître de mon destin! (Il verse le contenu de la fiole dans une coupe de cristal. Au moment où il va porter la coupe à ses lèvres, des voix de jeunes filles se font entendre au dehors.) _Choeur de Jeunes Filles._ Paresseuse fille Qui sommeille encor! Déjà le jour brille Sous son manteau d'or. Déjà l'oiseau chante Ses folles chansons; L'aube caressante Sourit aux moissons; Le ruisseau murmure, La fleur s'ouvre au jour, Toute la nature S'éveille à l'amour! _Faust._ Vains échos de la joie humaine, Passez, passez votre chemin!... O coupe des aïeux, qui tant fois fus pleine, Pourquoi trembles-tu dans ma main?... (Il porte de nouveau la coupe à ses lèvres.) _Choeur des Laboureurs_ (dehors). Aux champs l'aurore nous rappelle; Le temps est beau, la terre est belle; Béni soit Dieu! A peine voit-on l'hirondelle, Qui vole et plonge d'un coup d'aile Dans le profondeur du ciel bleu! _Jeunes Filles et Labs._ Béni soit Dieu! _Faust._ (_reposant la coupe_) Dieu! (Il se laisse retomber dans son fauteuil.) Mais ce Dieu, que peut-il pour moi! (Se levant.) Me rendra-t'il l'amour, l'espérance et la foi? (Avec rage.) Maudites soyez-vous, ô voluptés humaines! Maudites soient les chaînes Qui me font ramper ici-bas! Maudit soit tout ce qui nous leurre, Vain espoir qui passe avec l'heure, Rêves d'amour ou de combats! Maudit soit le bonheur, maudites la science, La prière et la foi! Maudite sois-tu, patience! A moi, Satan! à moi! * * * * * SCÈNE II. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ (apparaissant). Me voici!... D'où vient ta surprise! Ne suis-je pas mis à ta guise? L'épée au côté, la plume au chapeau, L'escarcelle pleine, un riche manteau Sur l'épaule;--en somme Un vrai gentilhomme! Eh bien! que me veux-tu, docteur! Parle, voyons!...--Te fais-je peur? _Faust._ Non. _Mep._ Doutes-tu ma puissance?... _Faust._ Peut-être! _Mep._ Mets-la donc à l'épreuve!... _Faust._ Va-t'en! _Mep._ Fi!--c'est là ta reconnaissance! Apprends de moi qu'avec Satan L'on en doit user d'autre sorte, Et qu'il n'était pas besoin De l'appeler de si loin Pour le mettre ensuite à la porte! _Faust._ Et que peux-tu pour moi? _Mep._ Tout.--Mais dis-moi d'abord Ce que tu veux;--est-ce de l'or? _Faust._ Que ferais-je de la richesse? _Mep._ Bien! je vois où le bât te blesse! Tu veux la gloire? _Faust._ Plus encor! _Mep._ La puissance! _Faust._ Non! je veux un trésor Qui les contient tous!... je veux la jeunesse! A moi les plaisirs, Les jeunes maîtresses! A moi leurs caresses! A moi leurs désirs? A moi l'énergie Des instincts puissants, Et la folle orgie Du coeur et des sens! Ardente jeunesse, A moi tes désirs! A moi ton ivresse! A moi tes plaisirs!... _Mep._ Fort bien! je puis contenter ton caprice _Faust._ Et que te donnerai-je en retour? _Mep._ Presque rien: Ici, je suis à ton service, Mais là-bas tu seras au mien. _Faust._ Là-bas?... _Mep._ Là-bas. (Lui présentant un parchemin.) Allons, signe.--Eh quoi! ta main tremble! Que faut-il pour te décider? La jeunesse t'appelle; ôse la regarder!... (Il fait un geste. Au fond du théâtre s'ouvre et laisse voir MARGUERITE assise devant son rouet et filant.) _Faust._ O merveille!... _Mep._ Eh bien! que t'ensemble? (Prenant le parchemin.) _Faust._ Donne!... (Il signe.) _Mep._ Allons donc! (Prenant la coupe restée sur la table.) Et maintenant, Maître, c'est moi qui te convie A vider cette coupe où fume en bouillonnant Non plus la mort, non plus le poison;--mais la vie! _Faust._ (Prenant la coupe et se tournant vers MARGUERITE.) A toi, fantôme adorable et charmant!... (Il vide la coupe et se trouve métamorphosé en jeune et élégant seigneur. La vision disparaît.) _Mep._ Viens! _Faust._ Je la reverrai? _Mep._ Sans doute. _Faust._ Quand? _Mep._ Aujourd'hui. _Faust._ C'est bien! _Mep._ En route! _Faust._ A moi les plaisirs, Les jeunes maîtresses! A moi leurs caresses! A moi leurs désirs! _Mep._ A toi la jeunesse, A toi ses désirs, A toi son ivresse, A toi ses plaisirs! (Ils sortent.--La toile tombe.) ACTE DEUXIÈME. SCÈNE PREMIÈRE. _La Kermesse._ (Une des portes de la ville. A gauche un caborte à l'enseigne du Bacchus) WAGNER, Etudiants, Bourgeois, Soldats, Jeunes Filles, Matrones. _Etuds._ Vin ou bière, Bière ou vin, Que mon verre Soit plein! Sans vergogne, Coup sur coup, Un ivrogne Boit tout! _Wag._ Jeune adepte Que ta gloire, De tonneau Tes amours, N'en excepte Soient de boire Que l'eau! Toujours! (Ils trinquent et boivent.) _Soldats._ Filles ou forteresses, C'est tout un, morbleu! Vieux burgs, jeunes maîtresses Sont pour nous un jeu! Celui qui sait s'y prendre Sans trop de façon, Les oblige à se rendre En payant rançon! _Bourgeois._ Aux jours de dimanche et de fête, J'aime à parler guerre et combats; Tandis que les peuples là-bas Se cassent la tête. Je vais m'asseoir sur les coteaux Qui sont voisins de la rivière, Et je vois passer les bateaux En vidant mon verre! (Bourgeois et Soldats remontent vers le fond du théâtre.) (Un groupe de jeunes filles entre en scène.) _Les Jeunes Filles_ (regardant de côté). Voyez ces hardis compères Qui viennent là-bas; Ne soyons pas trop sévères, Retardons le pas. (Elles gagnent la droite du théâtre. Un second choeur d'étudiants entre à leur suite.) _Deuxième Cho. d'Etuds._ Voyez ces mines gaillardes Et ces airs vainqueurs! Amis, soyons sur nos gardes, Tenons bien nos coeurs! _Cho. De Mats._ (observant les étudiants et les jeunes filles). Voyez après ces donzelles Courir ces messieurs! Nous sommes aussi bien qu'elles, Sinon beaucoup mieux! (Ensemble.) _Mats._ (aux jeunes filles). Vous voulez leur plaire Nous le voyons bien _Etuds._ Vin ou bière, Bière ou vin, Que mon verre Soit plein! _Sols._ Pas be beauté fière! Nous savons leur plaire En un tour de main! _Bourg._ Vidons un verre De ce bon vin! _Jeunes Filles._ De votre colère Nous ne craignons rien! _Jeunes Etuds._ Voyez leur colère, Voyez leur maintien! (Les étudiants et les soldats séparent les femmes en riant. Tous les groupes s'éloignent et disparaissent.) * * * * * SCÈNE II. WAGNER, SIEBEL, Etudiants, VALENTIN. _Val._ (paraissant an fond; il tient une petite médaille à la main). O sainte médaille, Qui me viens de ma soeur, Au jour de la bataille, Pour écarter la mort, reste là sur mon coeur! _Wag._ Ah! voici Valentin qui nous cherché sans doute! _Val._ Un dernier coup, messieurs, et mettons-nous en route! _Wag._ Qu'as-tu donc?... quels regrets attristent nos adieux? _Val._ Comme vous, pour longtemps, je vais quitter ces lieux; J'y laisse Marguerite, et, pour veiller sur elle, Ma mère n'est plus là! _Sie._ Plus d'un ami fidèle Saura te remplacer a ses côtés! _Val._ (lui serrant la main). Merci! _Sie._ Sur moi tu peux compter! _Etuds._ Compte sur nous aussi! _Val._ Avant de quitter ces lieux, Sol natal de mes aïeux, A toi, Seigneur et Roi des Cieux, Ma soeur je confie. Daigne de tout danger Toujours la protéger, Cette soeur si chérie. Délivré d'une triste pensée, J'irais chercher la gloire au sein des ennemis, Le premier, le plus brave au fort de la mêlée, J'irai combattre pour mon pays. Et si vers lui Dieu me rappelle, Je viellerai sur toi fidèle, O Marguerite! _Wag._ Allons, amis! point de vaines alarmes! A ce bon vin ne mêlons pas de larmes! Buvons, trinquons, et qu'un joyeux refrain Nous mette en train! _Etuds._ Buvons, trinquons, et qu'un joyeux refrain Nous mette en train! _Wag._ (montant sur an escabeau). Un rat plus poltron que brave, Et plus laid que beau, Logeait au fond d'une cave, Sous un vieux tonneau; Un chat.... * * * * * SCÈNE III. Les mêmes. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ (paraissant tout à coup au milieu des étudiants et interrompant WAGNER). Pardon! _Wag._ Hein? _Mep._ Parmi vous, de grâce Permettez-moi de prendre place! Que votre ami d'abord achève sa chanson! Moi, je vous en promets plusieurs de ma façon! _Wag._ (descendant de son escabeau). Une seule suffit, pourvu qu'elle soit bonne! _Mep._ Je ferai de mon mieux pour n'ennuyer personne! I. Le veau d'or est toujours debout; On encense Sa puissance D'un bout du monde à l'autre bout! Pour fêter l'infâme idole, Peuples et rois confondus, Au bruit sombre des écus Dansent une ronde folle Autour de son piédestal?... Et Satan conduit le bal! II. Le veau d'or est vainqueur des dieux; Dans son gloire Dérisoire Le monstre abjecte insulte aux cieux! Il contemple, ô rage étrange! A ses pieds le genre humain Se ruant, le fer en main, Dans le sang et dans la fange Où brille l'ardent métal!... Et Satan conduit le bal! _Tous._ Et Satan conduit le bal! _Cho._ Merci de ta chanson! _Val._ (à part). Singulier personnage! _Wag._ (tendant un verre à MEPHISTOPHELES). Nous ferez vous l'honneur de trinquer avec nous? _Mep._ Volontiers!... (Saisissant la main de WAGNER et l'examinant.) Ah! voici qui m'attriste pour vous! Vous voyez cette ligne? _Wag._ Eh bien? _Mep._ Fâcheux presage! Vous vous ferez tuer en montant à l'assaut! _Sie._ Vous êtes donc sorcier? _Mep._ Tout juste autant qu'il faut Pour lire dans ta main que le ciel te condamne A ne plus toucher une fleur Sans qu'elle se fane! _Sie._ Moi! _Mep._ Plus de bouquets à Marguerite!... _Val._ Ma soeur!... Qui vous a dit son nom? _Mep._ Prenez garde, mon brave! Vous vous ferez tuer par quelqu'un que je sais! (Prenant le verre des mains de Wagner.) A votre santé!... (Jetant le contenu du verre, après y avoir trempé ses lèvres.) Peuh! que ton vin est mauvais!... Permettez-moi de vous en offrir de ma cave! (Frappant sur le tonneau, surmonté d'un Bacchus, qui sert d'enseigne au cabaret.) Holà! seigneur Bacchus! à boire!... (Le vin jaillit du tonneau. Aux étudiants.) Approchez-vous! Chacun sera servi selon ses goûts! A la santé que tout à l'heure Vous portiez, mes amis, à Marguerite! _Val._ (lui arrachant le verre des mains). Assez!... Si je ne te fais taire à l'instant, que je meure! (Le vin s'enflamme dans la vasque placée audessous du tonneau.) _Wag. et les Etuds._ Holà!... (Ils tirent leurs épées.) _Mep._ Pourquoi trembler, vous qui me menacez? (Il tire un cercle autour de lui avec son épée.--VALENTIN s'avance pour l'attaquer.--Son épée se brise.) _Val._ Mon fer, ô surprise! Dans les airs se brise!... _Val., Wag., Sie. et les Etuds._ (forçant MEPHISTOPHELES à reculer et lui présentant la garde de leurs épées). De l'enfer qui vient émousser Nos armes! Nous ne pouvons pas repousser Les charmes! Mais puisque tu brises le fer, Regarde!... C'est une croix qui, de l'enfer, Nous garde! (Ils sortent.) * * * * * SCÈNE IV. MEPHISTOPHELES, puis FAUST. _Mep._ (remettant son épée au fourreau). Nous nous retrouverons, mes amis!--Serviteur! _Faust_ (entrant en scène). Qu'as-tu donc? _Mep._ Rien!--A nous deux, cher docteur! Qu'attendez-vous de moi? par où commencerai-je? _Faust._ Où se cache la belle enfant Que ton art m'a fait voir?--Est-ce un vain sortilège? _Mep._ Non pas! mais contre nous sa vertu la protège; Et le ciel même la défend! _Faust._ Qu'importe? je le veux! viens! conduis-mois vers elle! Ou je me sépare de toi! _Mep._ Il suffit!... je tiens trop à mon nouvel emploi Pour vous laisser douter un instant de mon zèle! Attendons!... Ici même, à ce signal joyeux, La belle et chaste enfant va paraître à vos yeux! * * * * * SCÈNE V. (Les étudiants et les jeunes filles, bras dessus, bras dessous, et précédés par des joueurs de violon, envahissent la scène. Ils sont suivie par les bourgeois qui ont paru au commencement de l'acte.) Les Mêmes, Étudiants, Jeunes Filles, Bourgeois, puis SIEBEL et MARGUERITE. _Cho._ (marquant la mesure en marchant). Ainsi que la brise légère Soulève en épais tourbillons La poussière Des sillons, Que la valse nous entraîne! Faites retentir la plaine De l'éclat de nos chansons! (Les Musiciens montent sur les bancs; la valse commence.) _Mep._ (à FAUST). Vois ces filles Gentilles! Ne veux-tu pas Aux plus belles D'entre elles Offrir ton bras? _Faust._ Non! fais trêve A ce ton moqueur! Et laisse mon coeur A son rêve!... _Sie._ (rentrant en scène). C'est par ici que doit passer Marguerite! _Quelques Jeunes Filles._ (s'approchant de SIEBEL). Faut-il qu'une fille á danser Vous invite? _Sie._ Non!... non! je ne veux pas valser!... _Cho._ Ainsi que la brise légère Soulève en épais tourbillons La poussière Des sillons, Que la valse nous entraîne! Faites retentir la plaine De l'éclat de nos chansons!... (MARGUERITE paraît.) _Faust._ Ah!... la voici ... c'est elle!... _Mep._ Eh bien, aborde-la! _Sie._ (apercevant MARGUERITE et faisant un pas vers elle). Marguerite!... _Mep._ (se retournant et se trouvant face à face avec SIEBEL). Plaît-il!... _Sie._ (à part). Maudit homme! encor là!... _Mep._ (d'un ton mielleux). Eh quoi! mon ami! vous voilà!... (en riant). Ah, vraiment, mon ami! (SIEBEL recule devant MEPHISTOPHELES, qui lui fait faire ainsi la tour du théâtre en passant derrière le groupe des danseurs.) _Faust_ (abordant MARGUERITE qui traverse la scène). Ne permettrez-vous pas, ma belle demoiselle, Qu'on vous offre le bras pour faire le chemin? _Mar._ Non, monsieur! je ne suis demoiselle, ni belle, Et je n'ai pas besoin qu'on me donne la main. (Elle passe devant FAUST et s'éloigne.) _Faust_ (la suivant des yeux). Pas le ciel! que de grâce ... et quelle modestie!... O belle enfant, je t'aime!... _Sie._ (redescendant en scene sans avoir vu ce qui vient de se passer). Elle est partie! (Il va pour s'élancer sur la trace de MARGUERITE; mais, se trouvant de nouveau face à face avec MEPHISTOPHELES, il lui tourne le dos et s'éloigne par le fond du théâtre.) _Mep._ (à FAUST). Eh bien? _Faust._ On me repousse!... _Mep._ (en riant). Allons! à tes amours Je vois qu'il faut prêter secours!... (Il s'éloigne avec FAUST du même côté que MARGUERITE.) _Quelques Jeunes Filles_ (s'adressant à trois ou quatre d'entre elles qui ont observé le rencontre de FAUST et de MARGUERITE). Qu'est-ce donc!... _Deuxième Groupe de Jeunes Filles._ Marguerite, Qui de ce beau seigneur refuse la conduite!... _Etuds._ (se rapprochant). Valsons encor! _Jeunes Filles._ Valsons toujours! ACTE TROISIÈME. SCÈNE PREMIÈRE. Le Jardin de MARGUERITE. (Au fond, un mur percé d'une petite porte. A gauche, un bosquet. A droite, un pavillon dont la fenêtre fait face au public. Arbres et massifs.) _Sie._ (seul). (Il est arrêté près d'un massif de roses et de lilas.) I. Faites-lui mes aveux, Portez mes voeux, Fleurs écloses près d'elle, Dites-lui qu'elle est belle ... Que mon coeur nuit et jour Languit d'amour! Révélez à son âme Le secret de ma flamme! Qu'il s'exhale avec vous Parfums plus doux!... (Il cueille une fleur.) Fanée!... hélas! (Il jette la fleur avec dépit.) Ce sorcier que Dieu damne M'a porté malheur! (Il cueille une autre fleur qui s'effeuille encore.) Je ne puis sans qu'elle se fane Toucher une fleur!... Si je trempais mes doigts dans l'eau bénite?... (Il s'approche du pavillon et trempe ses doigts dans un bénitier accroché au mur.) C'est là que chaque soir vient prier Marguerite! Voyons maintenant! voyons vite!... (Il cueille deux ou trois fleurs.) Elles se fanent?... Non!... Satan, je ris de toi ... II. C'est en vous que j'ai foi; Parlez pour moi! Qu'elle puisse connaître L'ardeur qu'elle a fait naître, Et dont mon coeur troublé N'a point parlé! Si l'amour l'effarouche, Que la fleur sur sa bouche Sache au moins déposer Un doux baiser!... (Il cueille des fleurs pour former un bouquet et disparaît dans les massifs du jardin.) * * * * * SCÈNE II. MEPHISTOPHELES, FAUST, puis SIEBEL. _Faust_ (entrant doucement en scène). C'est ici? _Mep._ Suivez-moi! _Faust._ Que regardes-tu là? _Mep._ Siebel, votre rival. _Faust._ Siebel! _Mep._ Chut!... le voilà! (Il se cache avec FAUST dans un bosquet.) _Sie._ (rentrant en scène, avec un bouquet à la main). Mon bouquet n'est-il pas charmant? _Mep._ (à part). Charmant! _Sie._ Victoire! Je lui raconterai demain toute l'histoire; Et, si l'on veut savoir le secret de mon coeur, Un baiser lui dira le reste! _Mep._ (à part) Séducteur! (SIEBEL attache le bouquet à la porte du pavillon et sort.) * * * * * SCÈNE III. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ Attendez-moi là, cher docteur! Pour tenir compagnie aux fleurs de votre élève, Je vais vous chercher un trésor Plus merveilleux, plus riche encor Que tous ceux qu'elle voit en rêve! _Faust._ Laisse-moi! _Mep._ J'obéis!... daignez m'attendre ici? (Il sort.) * * * * * SCÈNE IV. FAUST. _Faust_ (seul). Quel trouble inconnu me pénètre! Je sens l'amour s'emparer de mon être. O Marguerite! tes pieds me voici! Salut! demeure chaste et pure, où se devine La présence d'une âme innocente et divine!... Que de richesse en cette pauvreté! En ce réduit, que de félicité!... O nature, c'est là que tu la fis si belle! C'est là que cette enfant a grandi sous ton aile, A dormi sous tes yeux? Là que, de ton haleine enveloppant son âme, Tu fis avec amour épanouir la femme En cet ange des cieux! Salut! demeure chaste et pure, où se devine! La prèsence d'une âme innocente et divine!... Que de richesse en cette pauvreté! En ce réduit, que de félicité!... Salut! demeure chaste et pure, où se devine La présence d'une âme innocente et divine!... * * * * * SCÈNE V. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. (MEPHISTOPHELES reparaît, une cassette sous le bras.) _Mep._ Alerte! la voilà!... Si le bouquet l'emporte Sur l'écrin, je consens à perdre mon pouvoir! (Il ouvre l'écrin.) _Faust._ Fuyons!... je veux ne jamais la revoir! _Mep._ Quel scrupule vous prend!... (Plaçant l'écrin sur le seuil du pavillon.) Sur le seuil de la porte, Voici l'écrin placé!... venez!... j'ai bon espoir! (Il entraine FAUST et disparaît avec lui dans le jardin. MARGUERITE entre par la porte du fond et descend en silence jusque sur le devant de la scène.) * * * * * SCÈNE VI. MARGUERITE. _Mar._ (seule). Je voudrais bien savoir quel était ce jeune homme, Si c'est un grand seigneur, et comment il se nomme? (Elle s'assied dans le bosquet, devant son rouet, et prend son fuseau autour duquel elle prépare de la laine.) I. "Il était un roi de Thulé, Qui, jusqu'à la tombe fidèle, Eut, en souvenir de sa belle, Une coupe en or ciselé!..." (S'interrompant.) Il avait bonne grâce, à ce qu'il m'a semble. (Reprenant sa chanson.) "Nul trésor n'avait plus de charmes! Dans les grands jours il s'en servait, Et chaque fois qu'il y buvait, Ses yeux se remplissaient de larmes!..." II. (Elle se lève et fait quelques pas.) "Quand il sentit venir la mort, Entendu sur sa froide couche, Pour la porter jusqu'à sa bouche Sa main fit un suprême effort!..." (S'interrompant.) Je ne savais que dire, et j'ai rougi d'abord. (Reprenant sa chanson.) "Et puis, en l'honneur de sa dame, Il but un dernière fois; La coupe trembla dans ses doigts, Et doucement il rendit l'âme!" Les grands seigneurs ont seuls des airs si résolus, Avec cette douceur. (Elle se dirige vers le pavillon.) Allons! n'y pensons plus! Cher Valentin, si Dieu m'écoute, Je te reverrai!... me voilà Toute seule!... (Au moment d'entrer dans la pavillon, elle aperçoit la bouquet suspendu à la porte.) Un bouquet! (Elle prend le bouquet.) C'est de Siebel, sans doute! Pauvre garçon! (Apercevant la cassette.) Que vois-je là? D'où ce riche coffret peut-il venir?... Je n'ose Y toucher, et pourtant ...--Voici la clef, je crois!... Si je l'ouvrais!... ma main tremble!... Pourquoi! Je ne fais, en l'ouvrant, rien de mal, je suppose!... (Elle ouvre la cassette et laisse tomber le bouquet.) O Dieu! que de bijoux!... est-ce un rêve charmant Qui m'éblouit, ou si je veille!-- Mes yeux n'ont jamais vu de richesse pareille!... (Elle place la cassette tout ouverte sur une chaise et s'agenouille pour se parer.) Si j'osais seulement Me parer un moment De ces pendants d'oreille! (Elle tire des boucles d'oreilles de la cassette.) Voici tout justement, Au fond de la cassette, Un miroir!... comment N'être pas coquette? (Elle se pare des boucles d'oreilles, se lève et se regarde dans le miroir.) Ah! je ris de me voir Si belle en ce miroir!... Est-ce toi, Marguerite? Réponds-moi, réponds vite!-- Non! non!--ce n'est plus toi! Ce n'est plus ton visage! C'est la fille d'un roi, Qu'on salue au passage! Ah! s'il était ici! S'il me voyait ainsi!... Comme une demoiselle Il me trouverait belle!... Achevons la métamorphose! Il me tarde encor d'essayer Le bracelet et le collier. (Elle se pare du collier d'abord, puis du bracelet.--Se levant.) Dieu! c'est comme une main qui sur mon bras se pose! Ah! je ris de me voir Si belle en ce miroir! Est-ce toi, Marguerite? Réponds-moi, réponds vite!-- Non! non!--ce n'est plus toi! Ce n'est plus ton visage! C'est la fille d'un roi, Qu'on salue au passage!... Ah! s'il était ici! S'il me voyait ainsi!... Comme une demoiselle Il me trouverait belle!... Ah! s'il était ici!... * * * * * SCÈNE VII. MARGUERITE, MARTHE. _Mart._ (entrant par le fond). Que vois-je, Seigneur Dieu!... comme vous voilà belle, Mon ange!...--D'où vous vient ce riche écrin? _Mar._ (avec confusion). Hélas! On l'aura par mégarde apporté! _Mart._ Que non pas! Ces bijoux sont á vous, ma chère demoiselle! Oui! c'est là le cadeau d'un seigneur amoureux! (Soupirant.) Mon cher époux jadis était moins généreux! (MEPHISTOPHELES et FAUST entrent en scène.) * * * * * SCÈNE VIII. Les Mêmes, MEPHISTOPHELES, FAUST. _Mep._ Dame Marthe Schwerlein, s'il vous plait? _Mart._ Qui m'appelle? _Mep._ Pardon d'oser ainsi nous présenter chez vous! (Bas à FAUST.) Vous voyez qu'elle a fait bel accueil aux bijoux? (Haut.) Dame Marthe Schwerlein? _Mart._ Me voici! _Mep._ La nouvelle Que j'apporte n'est pas pour vous mettre en gaité:-- Votre mari, madame, est mort et vous salue! _Mart._ Ah!... grand Dieu!... _Mar._ Qu'est ce donc? _Mep._ Rien!... (MARGUERITE baisse les yeux sous le regard de MEPHISTOPHELES, se hâte d'ôter le collier, le bracelet et les pendants d'oreilles et de les remettre dans la cassette.) _Mart._ O calamité! O nouvelle imprévue!... ENSEMBLE. _Mar._ (à part). Malgré moi mon coeur tremble et tressaille à sa vue! _Faust_ (à part). La fièvre de mes sens se dissipe à sa vue! _Mep._ (à MARTHE). Votre mari, madame, est mort et vous salue! _Mart._ Ne m'apportez-vous rien de lui! _Mep._ Rien!... et, pour le punir, il faut dès aujourd'hui Chercher quelqu'un qui le remplace! _Faust_ (à MARGUERITE). Pourquoi donc quitter ces bijoux? _Mar._ Ces bijoux ne sont pas à moi!... Laissez, de grâce! _Mep._ (à MARTHE). Que ne serait heureux d'échanger avec vous La bague d'hyménée? _Mart._ (à part). Ah, bah! (Haut.) Plait-il? _Mep._ (soupirant). Hélas! cruelle destinée!... _Faust_ (à MARGUERITE). Prenez mon bras un moment! _Mar._ (se défendant). Laissez!... Je vous en conjure!... _Mep._ (de l'autre côté du théâtre, à MARTHE). Votre bras!... _Mart._ (à part). Il est charmant! _Mep._ (à part). La voisine est un peu mûre! (MARGUERITE abandonne son bras à FAUST et s'éloigne avec MEPHISTOPHELES et MARTHE restent seuls en scène.) _Mart._ Ainsi vous voyagez toujours? _Mep._ Dure nécessité, madame! Sans ami, sans parents!... sans femme. _Mart._ Cela sied encore aux beaux jours! Mais plus tard, combien il est triste De vieillir seul, en égoïste! _Mep._ J'ai frémi souvent, j'en conviens, Devant cette horrible pensée! _Mart._ Avant que l'heure en soit passée! Digne seigneur, songez-y bien! _Mep._ J'y songerai! _Mart._ Songez-y bien! (Ils sortent. Entre FAUST et MARGUERITE.) _Faust._ Eh quoi! toujours seule?... _Mar._ Mon frère Est soldat; j'ai perdu ma mère; Puis ce fut un autre malheur, Je perdis ma petite soeur! Pauvre ange!... Elle m'était bien chère!... C'était mon unique souci; Que de soins, hélas!... que de peines! C'est quand nos âmes en sont pleines Que la mort nous les prend ainsi!... Sitôt qu'elle s'éveillait, vite Il fallait que je fusse là!... Elle n'aimait que Marguerite! Pour la voir, la pauvre petite, Je reprendrais bien tout cela!... _Faust._ Si le ciel, avec un sourire, L'avait faite semblable à toi, C'était un ange!... Oui, je le croi!... _Mar._ Vous moquez-vous!... _Faust._ Non! je t'admire! _Mar._ (souriant). Je ne vous crois pas Et de moi tout bas Vous riez sans doute!... J'ai tort de rester Pour vous écouter!... Et pourtant j'écoute!... _Faust._ Laisse-moi ton bras!... Dieu ne m'a t'il pas Conduit sur ta route?... Pourquoi redouter, Hélas! d'écouter?... Mon coeur parle; écoute!... (MEPHISTOPHELES et MARTHE reparaissent.) _Mart._ Vous n'entendez pas, Ou de moi tout bas Vous riez sans doute! Avant d'écouter, Pourquoi vous hâter De vous mettre en route? _Mep._ Ne m'accusez pas, Si je dois, hélas! Me remettre en route. Faut-il attester Qu'on voudrait rester Quand on vous écoute? (La nuit commence à tomber.) _Mar._ (à FAUST). Retirez-vous!... voici la nuit. _Faust_ (passant son bras autour de la taille de MARGUERITE). Chère âme! _Mar._ Laissez-moi! (Elle se dégage et s'enfuit.) _Faust_ (la poursuivant). Quoi! méchante!... on me fuit! _Mep._ (à part, tandis que MARTHE, dépitée, lui tourne le dos). L'entretien devient trop tendre! Esquivons nous! (Il se cache derrière un arbre.) _Mart._ (à part). Comment m'y prendre? (Se retournant.) Eh bien! il est parti!... Seigneur!... (Elle s'éloigne.) _Mep._ Oui! Cours après moi!... Ouf! cette vieille impitoyable De force ou de gré, je crois, Allait épouser le diable! _Faust_ (dans la coulisse). Marguerite! _Mart._ (dans la coulisse). Cher seigneur! _Mep._ Serviteur! * * * * * SCÈNE IX. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ (seul). Il était temps! sous le feuillage sombre Voici nos amoureux qui reviennent!... C'est bien! Gardons nous de troubler un si doux entretien! O nuit, étends sur eux ton ombre! Amour, ferme leur âme aux remords importuns! Et vous, fleurs aux subtils parfums, Epanouissez-vous sous cette main maudite! Achevez de troubler le coeur de Marguerite!... (Il s'éloigne et disparaît dans l'ombre.) * * * * * SCÈNE X. FAUST, MARGUERITE. _Mar._ Il se fait tard! adieu! _Faust_ (la retenant). Quoi! je t'implore en vain! Attends! laisse ma main s'oublier dans la tienne! (S'agenouillant devant MARGUERITE.) Laisse-moi, laisse-moi contempler ton visage Sous la pâle clarté Dont l'astre de la nuit, comme dans un nuage, Caresse ta beauté!... _Mar._ O silence! ô bonheur! ineffable mystère! Enivrante langueur! J'écoute!... Et je comprends cette voix solitaire Qui chante dans mon coeur! (Dégageant sa main de celle de FAUST.) Laissez un peu, de grâce!... (Elle se penche et cueille une marguerite.) _Faust._ Qu'est se donc? _Mar._ Un simple jeu! Laissez un peu! (Elle effeuille la marguerite.) _Faust._ Que dit ta bouche à voix basse!... _Mar._ Il m'aime!--Il ne m'aime pas!-- Il m'aime!--pas!--Il m'aime!--pas! --Il m'aime! _Faust._ Oui!... crois en cette fleur éclose sous tes pas!... Qu'elle soit pour ton coeur l'oracle du ciel même!... Il t'aime!... comprends-tu ce mot sublime et doux?... Aimer! porter en nous Une ardeur toujours nouvelle!... Nous enivrer sans fin d'une joie éternelle! _Faust et Mar._ Eternelle!... _Faust._ O nuit d'amour ... ciel radieux!... O douces flammes!... Le bonheur silencieux Verse les cieux Dans nos deux âmes!... _Mar._ Je veux t'aimer et te chérir! Parle encore! Je t'appartiens!... je t'adore!... Pour toi je veux mourir!... _Faust._ Marguerite!... _Mar._ (se dégageant des bras de FAUST). Ah!... partez!... _Faust._ Cruelle!... Me séparer de toi!... _Mar._ Je chancelle!... _Faust._ Ah! cruelle!... _Mar._ (suppliante). Laissez-moi!... _Faust._ Tu veux que je te quitte Hélas!... vois ma douleur. Tu me brises le coeur, O Marguerite!... _Mar._ Partez! oui, partez vite! Je tremble!... hélas!... J'ai peur! Ne brisez pas le coeur De Marguerite! _Faust._ Par pitié!... _Mar._ Si je vous suis chère, Par votre amour, par ces aveux Que je devais taire, Cédez à ma priére!... Cédez à mes voeux! (Elle tombe aux pieds de FAUST.) _Faust_ (après un silence, la relevant doucement). Divine pureté!... Chaste innocence, Dont la puissance Triomphe de ma volonté!... J'obéis!... Mais demain! _Mar._ Oui, demain!... dès l'aurore!... Demain toujours!... _Faust._ Un mot encore!... Répète-moi ce doux aveu!... Tu m'aimes!... _Mar._ Adieu!... (Elle entre dans le pavillon.) _Faust._ Félicité du ciel.... Ah ... fuyons.... (Il s'élance vers la porte du jardin. MEPHISTOPHELES lui barre le passage.) * * * * * SCÈNE XI. FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ Tête folle!... _Faust._ Tu nous écoutais. _Mep._ Par bonheur. Vous auriez grand besoin, docteur, Qu'on vous renvoyât à l'école. _Faust._ Laisse-moi. _Mep._ Daignez seulement Écouter un moment Ce qu'elle va conter aux étoiles, cher maître. Tenez; elle ouvre sa fenêtre. (MARGUERITE ouvre la fenêtre du pavillon et s'y appuie un moment en silence, la tête entre les mains.) * * * * * SCÈNE XII. Les mêmes. MARGUERITE. _Mar._ Il m'aime; ...quel trouble en mon coeur, L'oiseau chante!...le vent murmure!... Toutes les voix de la nature Semblent me répéter en choeur: Il t'aime!...--Ah! qu'il est doux de vivre!... Le ciel me sourit; ...l'air m'enivre!... Est-ce de plaisir et d'amour Que la feuille tremble et palpite?... Demain?...--Ah! presse ton retour, Cher bien-aimé!...viens!... _Faust._ (s'élançant vers la fenêtre et saisissant la main de MARGUERITE). Marguerite!... _Mar._ Ah!... _Mep._ Ho! ho! (MARGUERITE reste un moment interdite et laisse tomber sa tête sur l'épaule de FAUST; MEPHISTOPHELES ouvre la porte du jardin et sort en ricanant. La toile tombe.) ACTE QUATRIEME. SCÈNE PREMIERE. _La Chambre de Marguerite._ MARGUERITE, SIEBEL. _Sie._ (s'approchant doucement de MARGUERITE). Marguerite! _Mar._ Siebel!... _Sie._ Encore des pleurs. _Mar._ (se levant). Hélas! Vous seul ne me maudissez pas. _Sie._ Je ne suis qu'un enfant, mais j'ai le coeur d'un homme Et je vous vengerai de son lâche abandon! Je le tuerai! _Mar._ Qui donc? _Sie._ Faut-il que je le nomme? L'ingrat qui vous trahit!... _Mar._ Non!... taisez-vous?... _Sie._ Pardon! Vous l'aimez encore? _Mar._ Oui!... toujours! Mais ce n'est pas à vous de plaindre mon ennui J'ai tort, Siebel, de vous parler de lui. _Sie._ I. Si la bonheur à sourire t'invite, Joyeux alors, je sens un doux émoi; Si la douleur t'accable, Marguerite, O Marguerite, je pleure alors, Je pleure comme toi! II. Comme deux fleurs sur une même tige, Notre destin suivant le même cours, De tes chagrins en fière je m'afflige, O Marguerite, comme une soeur, Je t'aimerai toujours! _Mar._ Soyez béni, Siebel! votre amitié m'est douce! Ceux dont la main cruelle me repousse, N'ont pas fermé pour moi la porte du saint lieu; J'y vais pour mon enfant ... et pour lui prier Dieu! (Elle sort; SIEBEL la suit à pas lents.) * * * * * SCÈNE II. _L'Église._ MARGUERITE, puis MEPHISTOPHELES. (Quelques femmes traversent la scène et entrent dans l'église. MARGUERITE entre après elles et s'agenouille.) _Mar._ Seigneur, daignez permettre à votre humble servante De s'agenouiller devant vous! _Mep._ Non!... tu ne prieras pas!... Frappez-la d'épouvante! Esprits du mal, accourez tous! _Voix de Démons Invisibles._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Qui m'appelle? _Voix._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Je chancelle! Je meurs!--Dieu bon! Dieu clément! Est-ce déjà l'heure du châtiment? (MEPHISTOPHELES parait derrière un pilier et se penche à l'oreille de MARGUERITE.) _Mep._ Souviens-toi du passé, quand sous l'aile des anges, Abritant ton bonheur, Tu venais dans son temple, enchantant ses louanges, Adorer le Seigneur! Lorsque tu bégayais une chaste prière D'une timide voix, Et portais dans ton coeur les baisers de ta mère, Et Dieu tout à la fois! Écoute ces clameurs! c'est l'enfer qui t'appelle!... C'est l'enfer qui te suit! C'est l'éternel remords et l'angoisse éternelle Dans l'éternelle nuit! _Mar._ Dieu! quelle est cette voix qui me parle dans l'ombre? Dieu tout puissant! Quel voile sombre Sur moi descend!... _Chant Religieux_ (accompagné par les orgues). Quand du Seigneur le jour luira, Sa croix au ciel resplendira, Et l'univers s'écroulera ... _Mar._ Hélas!... ce chant pieux est plus terrible encore!... _Mep._ Non! Dieu pour toi n'a plus de pardon! Le ciel pour toi n'a plus d'aurore! _Cho. Religieux._ Que dirai-je alors au Seigneur? Où trouverai-je un protecteur, Quand l'innocent n'est pas sans peur! _Mar._ Ah! ce chant m'ètouffe et m'oppresse! Je suis dans un cercle de fer! _Mep._ Adieu les nuits d'amour et les jours pleins d'ivresse! A toi malheur! A toi l'enfer! _Mar. et le Cho. Religieux._ Seigneur, accueillez la prière Des coeurs malheureux! Qu'un rayon de votre lumière Descende sur eux! _Mep._ Marguerite! Sois maudite! A toi l'enfer! _Mar._ Ah! (Il disparait.) * * * * * SCÈNE III. _La Rue._ VALENTIN, Soldats, puis SIEBEL. _Cho._ Déposons les armes; Dans nos foyers enfin nous voici revenus! Nos mères en larmes, Nos mères et nos soeurs ne nous attendront plus. * * * * * SCÈNE IV. VALENTIN, SIEBEL. _Val._ (apercevant SIEBEL). Eh! parbleu! c'est Siebel! _Sie._ Cher Valentin.... _Val._ Viens vite! Viens dans mes bras. (Il l'embrasse.) Et Marguerite? _Sie._ (avec embarras). Elle est à l'église, je crois. _Val._ Oui, priant Dieu pour moi.... Chère soeur, tremblante et craintive, Comme elle va prêter une oreille attentive Au récit de nos combats! _Cho._ Gloire immortelle De nos aïeux, Sois-nous fidèle Mourons comme eux! Et sous ton aile, Soldats vainqueurs, Dirige nos pas, enflamme nos coeurs! Vers nos foyers hâtons le pas! On nous attend; la paix est faite! Plus de soupirs! ne tardons pas! Notre pays nous tend les bras! L'amour nous rit! l'amour nous fête! Et plus d'un coeur frémit tout bas Au souvenir de nos combats! L'amour nous rit! l'amour nous fête! Et plus d'un coeur frémit tout bas Au souvenir de nos combats! Gloire immortelle. * * * * * _Val._ Allons, Siebel! entrons dans la maison! Le verre en main, tu me feras raison! _Sie._ (vivement). Non! n'entre pas! _Val._ Pourquoi?...--tu détournes la tête? Ton regard fuit le mien?...--Siebel, explique-toi! _Sie._ Eh bien!--non, je ne puis! _Val._ Que veux-tu dire? (Il se dirige vers la maison.) _Sie._ (l'arretant). Arrêté! Sois clément, Valentin! _Val._ (furieux). Laisse-moi! laisse-moi! (Il entre dans la maison.) _Sie._ Pardonne-lui! (Seul.) Mon Dieu! je vous implore! Mon Dieu, protégez-la. (Il s'éloigne; MEPHISTOPHELES et FAUST entrent en scène; MEPHISTOPHELES tient une guitare à la main.) * * * * * SCÈNE V. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. (FAUST se dirige vers la maison de MARGUERITE et s'arrête.) _Mep._ Qu'attendez-vous encore? Entrons dans la maison. _Faust._ Tais-toi, maudit!... j'ai peur De rapporter ici la honte et le malheur. _Mep._ A quoi bon la revoir, après l'avoir quitté? Notre présence ailleurs serait bien mieux fêtée! La sabbat nous attend! _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mep._ Je vois Que mes avis sont vains et que l'amour l'emporte! Mais, pour vous faire ouvrir la porte, Vous avez grand besoin du secours de ma voix! (FAUST, pensif, se tient à l'écart. MEPHISTOPHELES s'accompagne sur sa guitare.) I. "Vous qui faites l'endormie, N'entendez-vous pas, O Catherine, ma mie, Ma voix et mes pas ...?" Ainsi ton galant t'appelle, Et ton coeur l'en croit! N'ouvre ta porte, ma belle, Que la bague au doigt! II. "Catherine que j'adore, Pourquoi refuser A l'amant qui vous implore Un si doux baiser?..." Ainsi ton galant supplie, Et ton coeur l'en croit! Ne donne un baiser, ma mie, Que la bague au doigt! (VALENTIN sort de la maison.) * * * * * SCÈNE VI. Les mêmes. VALENTIN. _Val._ Que voulez-vous, messieurs? _Mep._ Pardon! mon camarade, Mais ce n'est pas pour vous qu'était la sérénade! _Val._ Ma soeur l'écouterait mieux que moi, je le sais! (Il degaine et brise la guitare de MEPHISTOPHELES d'un coup d'épée.) _Faust._ Sa soeur! _Mep._ (à VALENTIN). Quelle mouche vous pique? Vous n'aimez donc pas la musique? _Val._ Assez d'outrage!... assez!... A qui de vous dois-je demander compte De mon malheur et de ma honte?... Qui de vous deux doit tomber sous mes coups?... (FAUST tire son épée.) C'est lui!... _Mep._ Vous le voulez?...--Allons, docteur, à vous!... _Val._ Redouble, ô Dieu puissant, Ma force et mon courage! Permets que dans son sang Je lave mon outrage! _Faust_ (à part). Terrible et frémissant, Il glace mon courage! Dois-je verser le sang Du frère que j'outrage?... _Mep._ De son air menaçant, De son aveugle rage, Je ris!... mon bras puissant Va détourner l'orage!... _Val._ (tirant de son sein la médaille que lui a donnée MARGUERITE). Et toi qui préservas mes jours, Toi qui me viens de Marguerite, Je ne veux plus de ton secours, Médaille maudite!... (Il jette la médaille loin de lui.) _Mep._ (à part). Tu t'en repentiras! _Val._ En garde!... et défends-toi!... _Mep._ (à FAUST). Serrez-vous contre moi!... Et poussez seulement, cher docteur!... moi, je pare. _Val._ Ah! (VALENTIN tombe.) _Mep._ Voici notre héros étendu sur le sable!... Au large maintenant! au large!... (Il entraîne FAUST. Arrivent MARTHE et des bourgeois portant des torches.) * * * * * SCÈNE VII. VALENTIN, MARTHE, Bourgeois, puis SIEBEL et MARGUERITE. _Mart. et les Bourg._ Par ici!... Par ici, mes amis! on se bat dans la rue!...-- L'un d'eux est tombé là!--Regardez ... le voici!... II n'est pas encore mort!...--on dirait qu'il remue!...-- Vite, approchez!... il faut le secourir! _Val._ (se soulevant avec effort). Merci! De vos plaintes, faites-moi grace!... J'ai vu, morbleu! la mort en face Trop souvent pour en avoir peur!... (MARGUERITE paraît au fond soutenue par SIEBEL.) _Mar._ Valentin!... Valentin!... (Elle écarte la foule et tombe à genoux près de VALENTIN.) _Val._ Marguerite! ma soeur!... (Il la repousse.) Que me veux-tu?... va-t'en _Mar._ O Dieu!... _Val._ Je meurs par elle!... J'ai sottement Cherché querelle A son amant! _La Foule_. (à demi voix, montrant MARGUERITE). Il meurt, frappé par son amant! _Mar._ Douleur cruelle! O châtiment!... _Sie._ (à VALENTIN). Grâce pour elle!... Soyez clément! _Val._ (soutenu par ceux qui l'entourent). Ecoute-moi bien, Marguerite!... Ce qui doit arriver arrive à l'heure dite! La mort nous frappé quand il faut, Et chacun obéit aux volontés d'en haut!... --Toi!... te voilà dans la mauvaise voie! Tes blanches mains ne travailleront plus! Tu renîras, pour vivre dans la joie, Tous les devoirs et toutes les vertus! Va! la honte t'accable Le remords suit tes pas! Mais enfin l'heure sonne! Meurs! et si Dieu te pardonne, Soit maudite ici-bas. _La Foule._ O terreur, ô blasphème A ton heure suprême, infortuné, Songe, hélas, a toi-même, Pardonne, si tu veux être un jour pardonné! _Val._ Marguerite! Soit maudite! La mort t'attend sur ton grabat! Moi je meurs de ta main Et je tombe en soldat! (Il meurt.) _La Foule._ Que le Seigneur ait son âme Et pardonne au pêcheur. (La toile tombe.) ACTE CINQUIÈME. SCÈNE PREMIÈRE. La Prison. MARGUERITE, endormie, FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES. _Faust._ Va t'en! _Mep._ Le jour va luire.--On dresse l'échafaud! Décide sans retard Marguerite à te suivre. Le geôlier dort.--Voici les clefs.--Il faut Que ta main d'homme la délivre. _Faust._ Laisse-moi! _Mep._ Hâtez-vous.--Moi, je veille au dehors. (Il sort.) _Faust._ Mon coeur est pénètré d'épouvante!--O torture! O source de regrets et d'éternels remords! C'est elle!--La voici, la douce créature Jetée au fond d'une prison Comme une vile criminelle! Le désespoir égara sa raison Son pauvre enfant, ô Dieu! tué par elle! Marguerite! _Mar._ (s'éveillant). Ah! c'est lui!--c'est lui! le bien-aimé! (Elle se lève.) A son appel mon coeur s'est ranimé. _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Au milieu de vos éclats de rire, Démons qui m'entourez, j'ai reconnu sa voix! _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Sa main, sa douce main m'attire! Je suis libre! Il est là! je l'entends! je la vois. Oui, c'est toi, je t'aime, Les fers, la mort même Ne me font plus peur! Tu m'as retrouvé, Me voilà sauvé! C'est toi; je suis sur ton coeur! _Faust._ Oui, c'est moi, je t'aime, Malgré l'effort même Du démon moqueur, Je t'ai retrouvé, Te voilà sauvé, C'est moi, viens sur mon coeur! _Mar._ (se dégageant doucement de ses bras). Attends!... voici la rue Où tu m'as vue Pour la premiere fois!... Où votre main osa presque effleurer mes doigts! "--Ne permettez-vous pas, ma belle demoiselle, Qu'on vous offre le bras pour faire le chemin?" "--Non, monsieur, je ne suis demoiselle ni belle, Et je n'ai pas besoin qu'on me donne la main!" _Faust._ Oui, mon coeur se souvient!--Mais fuyons! l'heure passe! _Mar._ Et voici le jardin charmant, Parfumé de myrte et de rose, Où chaque soir discrètement Tu pénétrais à la nuit close. _Faust._ Viens, Marguerite, fuyons! _Mar._ Non, reste encore. _Faust._ O ciel, elle ne m'entends pas! * * * * * SCÈNE II. Les mêmes. MEPHISTOPHELES. _Mep._ Alerte! alerte! ou vous êtes perdus! Si vous tardez encor, je ne m'en mêle plus! _Mar._ Le démon! le démon!--Le vois-tu?... là ... dans l'ombre Fixant sur nous son oeil de feu! Que nous veut-il?--Chasse-le du saint lieu! _Mep._ L'aube depuis longtemps a percé la nuit sombre, La jour est levé De leur pied sonore J'entends nos chevaux frapper le pavé. (Cherchant à entraîner FAUST.) Viens! sauvons-la. Peut-être il en est temps encore! _Mar._ Mon Dieu, protégez-moi!--Mon Dieu, je vous implore! (Tombant à genoux.) Anges purs! anges radieux! Portez mon âme au sein des cieux! Dieu juste, à toi je m'abandonne! Dieu bon, je suis à toi!--pardonne! _Faust._ Viens, suis-moi! je le veux! _Mar._ Anges purs, anges radieux! Portez mon âme au sein des cieux! Dieu juste, à toi je m'abandonne! Dieu bon, je suis à toi!--pardonne! Anges purs, anges radieux! Portez mon âme au sein des cieux! (Bruit au dehors.) _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Pourquoi ce regard menaçant? _Faust._ Marguerite! _Mar._ Pourquoi ces mains rouges de sang? (Le repoussant.) Va!... tu me fais horreur! (Elle tombe sans mouvement.) _Mep._ Jugée! _Cho. des Anges._ Sauvée! Christ est ressuscité! Christ vient de renaître! Paix et félicité Aux disciples du Maître! Christ vient de renaître. Christ est ressuscité! (Les murs de la prison se sont ouverts. L'âme de MARGUERITE s'élève dans les cieux. FAUST la suit des yeux avec désespoir; il tombe à genoux et prie. MEPHISTOPHELES est à demi renversé sous l'épée lumineuse de l'archange.) FIN. [Illustration: ACT I: A MOI LES PLAISIRS (OH, I WOULD HAVE PLEASURE)] [Illustration: ACT II. WALTZ AND CHORUS-1] [Illustration: ACT II. WALTZ AND CHORUS-2] [Illustration: ACT III: O NUIT D'AMOUR (O NIGHT OF LOVE)] [Illustration: ACT IV: SOLDIERS CHORUS] [Illustration: ACT V: ANGES PUR, ANGES RADIEUX (HOLY ANGELS, IN HEAVEN BLEST)] Standard Opera Librettos All librettos have English text. Additional texts are indicated by Italic letters, as follows: _I_, Italian; _G_, German; _F_, French. 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E. Auber_ Freischütz, Der _G._ _Carl Maria von Weber_ do. _I._ do. *Gillette (_La Belle Coquette_) _Edmond Audran_ Gioconda, La _I._ _Amilcare Ponchielli_ Giroflé-Girofla _F._ _Charles Lecocq_ Götterdämmerung, Die _G._ _Richard Wagner_ BOSTON: OLIVER DITSON COMPANY New York: Chas. H. Ditson & Co. Chicago: Lyon & Healy, Inc. Order of your local dealer Made in U. S. A. Standard Opera Librettos All librettos have English text. Additional texts are indicated by Italic letters, as follows: _I_, Italian; _G_, German; _F_, French. Those marked with (*) contain no music. All the others have the music of the principal airs. PRICE, 30 CENTS, EACH PRICES ARE Postage extra, except in first and second zones from Boston and New York G-Z Title Text Composer Grand Duchess of Gerolstein, The _F._ _Jacques Offenbach_ *Hamlet _Ambroise Thomas_ Jewess, The _I._ _Jacques F. Halévy_ Königin von Saba (Queen of Sheba) _G._ _Karl Goldmark_ Lakmé _I._ _Léo Delibes_ Lily of Killarney, The _Sir Jules Benedict_ Linda di Chamounix _I._ _Gaetano Donizetti_ Lohengrin _G._ _Richard Wagner_ do. _I._ do. *Lovely Galatea, The _Franz von Suppé_ Lucia di Lammermoor _I._ _Gaetano Donizetti_ Lucrezia Borgia _I._ do. *Madame Favart _Jacques Offenbach_ Manon _F._ _Jules Massenet_ Maritana _Wm. Vincent Wallace_ Marriage of Figaro _I._ _W. A. Mozart_ Martha _I._ _Friedrich von Flotow_ Masaniello (Dumb Girl of Portici) _I._ _D. F. E. Auber_ *Mascot, The _Edmond Audran_ Masked Ball _I._ _Giuseppe Verdi_ Meistersinger, Die (The Mastersingers) _G._ _Richard Wagner_ Mefistofele _I._ _Arrigo Boito_ Merry Wives of Windsor, The _Otto Nicolai_ Mignon _I._ _Ambroise Thomas_ Mikado, The _Sir Arthur S. Sullivan_ *Nanon _Richard Genée_ Norma _I._ _Vincenzo Bellini_ *Olivette _Edmond Audran_ Orpheus _C. W. von Gluck_ Otello _I._ _Giuseppe Verdi_ Pagliacci, I _I._ _R. 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Rossini_ Zauberflöte, Die (The Magic Flute) _G._ _W. A. Mozart_ Boston: OLIVER DITSON COMPANY: New York Chicago: LYON & HEALY, Inc. London: WINTHROP ROGERS, Ltd. Order of your local dealer Made in U. S. A. SONGS FROM THE OPERAS * * * * * Edited by H. E. KREHBIEL _Bound in paper, cloth back, $2.50 each, net_ _In full cloth, gilt.... 3.50 each, net_ In these volumes of _The Musicians Library_ the editor has presented in chronological order the most famous arias from operas of every school. Beginning with songs from the earliest Italian productions, a comprehensive view of operatic development is given by well-chosen examples from German, French, and later Italian works, down to contemporary musical drama. Each song or aria is given in its original key with the original text, and a faithful and singable English translation. Each volume contains an interesting preface by Mr. Krehbiel, with historic, descriptive, and interpretative notes on each song. 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The music covers 192 pages, the prefatory matter 27 pages. Portraits are given of Beethoven, Bizet, Gluck, Gounod, Mascagni, Massenet, Verdi, Wagner, and Weber. BARITONE AND BASS SONGS FROM THE OPERAS Contains twenty-seven numbers by twenty-four composers. The music covers 188 pages, the prefatory matter 20 pages. Portraits are given of Bellini, Bizet, Cherubini, Gounod, Halévy, Handel, Mozart, Ponchielli, and Tchaikovsky. Boston: OLIVER DITSON COMPANY: New York Chicago: LYON & HEALY, INC. London: WINTHROP ROGERS, LTD. _Order of your local dealer_ 
811	----	THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS By Christopher Marlowe From The Quarto Of 1616. Edited By The Rev. Alexander Dyce. Comments on the preparation of the E-Text: SQUARE BRACKETS: The square brackets, i.e. are copied from the printed book, without change, except that the stage directions usually do not have closing brackets. These have been added. FOOTNOTES: For this E-Text version of the book, the footnotes have been consolidated at the end of the play. Numbering of the footnotes has been changed, and each footnote is given a unique identity. CHANGES TO THE TEXT: Character names were expanded. For Example, FAUSTUS was FAUST; SECOND SCHOLAR was SEC. SCHOL. OTHER COMMENTS: This E-Text of _Doctor Faustus_ is taken from a volume of _The Works of Christopher Marlowe_. That volume also contains an earlier version of the play, based on the text of 1604, which is available as an E-Text. Some of the notes to the earlier version are applicable to, and help explain, this version. Gary R. Young The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus. Written by Ch. Mar. London, Printed for John Wright, and are to be sold at his shop without Newgate, at the signe of the Bible, 1616, 4to. The Tragicall History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus. With new Additions. Written by Ch. Mar. Printed at London for John Wright, and are to be sold at his shop without Newgate, 1624, 4to. The Tragicall Historie of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus. With new Additions. Written by Ch. Mar. Printed at London for John Wright, and are to be sold at his shop without Newgate, 1631, 4to. In a few places I have amended the text of this play by means of 4to 1604.--I have made no use of the comparatively modern edition, 4to 1663. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. THE POPE. THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY. RAYMOND, king of Hungary. DUKE OF SAXONY. BRUNO. DUKE OF VANHOLT. MARTINO, | FREDERICK, | gentlemen. BENVOLIO, | FAUSTUS. VALDES, | friends to FAUSTUS. CORNELIUS, | WAGNER, servant to FAUSTUS. Clown. ROBIN. DICK. Vintner. Horse-courser. Carter. An Old Man. Scholars, Cardinals, ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMS, Bishops, Monks, Friars, Soldiers, and Attendants. DUCHESS OF VANHOLT. Hostess. LUCIFER. BELZEBUB. MEPHISTOPHILIS. Good Angel. Evil Angel. The Seven Deadly Sins. Devils. Spirits in the shapes of ALEXANDER THE GREAT, of his Paramour, of DARIUS, and of HELEN. Chorus. THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS FROM THE QUARTO OF 1616. Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Not marching in the fields of Thrasymene, Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagens; [1] Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In courts of kings where state is overturn'd; Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to vaunt her [2] heavenly verse: Only this, gentles,--we must now perform The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad: And now to patient judgments we appeal, And speak for Faustus in his infancy. Now is he born of parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes: At riper years, to Wittenberg he went, Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him up. So much he profits in divinity, That shortly he was grac'd with doctor's name, Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute In th' heavenly matters of theology; Till swoln with cunning, of [3] a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow; For, falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon [4] cursed necromancy; Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss: And this the man that in his study sits. [Exit.] FAUSTUS discovered in his study. FAUSTUS. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess: Having commenc'd, be a divine in show, Yet level at the end of every art, And live and die in Aristotle's works. Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me! Bene disserere est finis logices. Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end? Affords this art no greater miracle? Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end: A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit: Bid Economy farewell, and Galen come: Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold, And be eterniz'd for some wondrous cure: Summum bonum medicinoe sanitas, The end of physic is our body's health. Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end? Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague, And thousand [5] desperate maladies been cur'd? Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. Couldst thou make men to live eternally, Or, being dead, raise them [6] to life again, Then this profession were to be esteem'd. Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian? [Reads.] Si una eademque res legatur [7] duobus, alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c. A petty [8] case of paltry legacies! [Reads.] Exhoereditare filium non potest pater, nisi, &c. [9] Such is the subject of the institute, And universal body of the law: This study fits a mercenary drudge, Who aims at nothing but external trash; Too servile and illiberal for me. When all is done, divinity is best: Jerome's Bible, Faustus; view it well. [Reads.] Stipendium peccati mors est. Ha! Stipendium, &c. The reward of sin is death: that's hard. [Reads.] Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis veritas; If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and there is no truth in us. Why, then, belike we must sin, and so consequently die: Ay, we must die an everlasting death. What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera, What will be, shall be? Divinity, adieu! These metaphysics of magicians, And necromantic books are heavenly; Lines, circles, scenes, letters, and characters; [10] Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires. O, what a world of profit and delight, Of power, of honour, and omnipotence, Is promis'd to the studious artizan! All things that move between the quiet poles Shall be at my command: emperors and kings Are but obeyed in their several provinces; But his dominion that exceeds in this, Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man; A sound magician is a demigod: Here tire, my brains, to gain [11] a deity. Enter WAGNER. Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, The German Valdes and Cornelius; Request them earnestly to visit me. WAGNER. I will, sir. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Their conference will be a greater help to me Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. GOOD ANGEL. O, Faustus, lay that damned book aside, And gaze not on it, lest it tempt thy soul, And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head! Read, read the Scriptures:--that is blasphemy. EVIL ANGEL. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous art Wherein all Nature's treasure is contain'd: Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky, Lord and commander of these [12] elements. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. How am I glutted with conceit of this! Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please, Resolve me of all ambiguities, Perform what desperate enterprise [13] I will? I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl, And search all corners of the new-found world For pleasant fruits and princely delicates; I'll have them read me strange philosophy, And tell the secrets of all foreign kings; I'll have them wall all Germany with brass, And make swift Rhine circle fair [14] Wertenberg; I'll have them fill the public schools with silk, [15] Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad; I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, And chase the Prince of Parma from our land, And reign sole king of all the provinces; Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war, Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp-bridge, I'll make my servile spirits to invent. Enter VALDES and CORNELIUS. Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius, And make me blest [16] with your sage conference. Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, Know that your words have won me at the last To practice magic and concealed arts. Philosophy is odious and obscure; Both law and physic are for petty wits: 'Tis magic, magic that hath ravish'd me. Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt; And I, that have with subtle syllogisms Gravell'd the pastors of the German church, And made the flowering pride of Wittenberg Swarm [17] to my problems, as th' infernal spirits On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell, Will be as cunning as Agrippa was, Whose shadow made all Europe honour him. VALDES. Faustus, these books, thy wit, and our experience, Shall make all nations to [18] canonize us. As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords, So shall the spirits of every element Be always serviceable to us three; Like lions shall they guard us when we please; Like Almain rutters with their horsemen's staves, Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides; Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have [19] the white breasts of the queen of love: From Venice shall they [20] drag huge [21] argosies, And from America the golden fleece That yearly stuffs [22] old Philip's treasury; If learned Faustus will be resolute. FAUSTUS. Valdes, as resolute am I in this As thou to live: therefore object it not. CORNELIUS. The miracles that magic will perform Will make thee vow to study nothing else. He that is grounded in astrology, Enrich'd with tongues, well seen in minerals, Hath all the principles magic doth require: Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renowm'd, [23] And more frequented for this mystery Than heretofore the Delphian oracle. The spirits tell me they can dry the sea, And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks, Yea, all the wealth that our forefathers hid Within the massy entrails of the earth: Then tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want? FAUSTUS. Nothing, Cornelius. O, this cheers my soul! Come, shew me some demonstrations magical, That I may conjure in some bushy grove, And have these joys in full possession. VALDES. Then haste thee to some solitary grove, And bear wise Bacon's and Albertus' [24] works, The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament; And whatsoever else is requisite We will inform thee ere our conference cease. CORNELIUS. Valdes, first let him know the words of art; And then, all other ceremonies learn'd, Faustus may try his cunning by himself. VALDES. First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments, And then wilt thou be perfecter than I. FAUSTUS. Then come and dine with me, and, after meat, We'll canvass every quiddity thereof; For, ere I sleep, I'll try what I can do: This night I'll conjure, though I die therefore. [Exeunt.] Enter two SCHOLARS. FIRST SCHOLAR. I wonder what's become of Faustus, that was wont to make our schools ring with sic probo. SECOND SCHOLAR. That shall we presently know; here comes his boy. Enter WAGNER. FIRST SCHOLAR. How now, sirrah! where's thy master? WAGNER. God in heaven knows. SECOND SCHOLAR. Why, dost not thou know, then? WAGNER. Yes, I know; but that follows not. FIRST SCHOLAR. Go to, sirrah! leave your jesting, and tell us where he is. WAGNER. That follows not by force of argument, which you, being licentiates, should stand upon: therefore acknowledge your error, and be attentive. SECOND SCHOLAR. Then you will not tell us? WAGNER. You are deceived, for I will tell you: yet, if you were not dunces, you would never ask me such a question; for is he not corpus naturale? and is not that mobile? then wherefore should you ask me such a question? But that I am by nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to lechery (to love, I would say), it were not for you to come within forty foot of the place of execution, although I do not doubt but to see you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having triumphed over you, I will set my countenance like a precisian, and begin to speak thus:-- Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at dinner, with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine, if it could speak, would inform your worships: and so, the Lord bless you, preserve you, and keep you, my dear brethren! [Exit.] FIRST SCHOLAR. O Faustus! Then I fear that which I have long suspected, That thou art fall'n into that [25] damned art For which they two are infamous through the world. SECOND SCHOLAR. Were he a stranger, not allied to me, The danger of his soul would make me mourn. But, come, let us go and inform the Rector: It may be his grave counsel may reclaim him. [26] FIRST SCHOLAR. I fear me nothing will reclaim him now. SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet let us see what we can do. [Exeunt.] Enter FAUSTUS. [27] FAUSTUS. Now that the gloomy shadow of the night, Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, Leaps from th' antartic world unto the sky, And dims the welkin with her [28] pitchy breath, Faustus, begin thine incantations, And try if devils will obey thy hest, Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them. Within this circle is Jehovah's name, Forward and backward anagrammatiz'd, Th' abbreviated names of holy saints, Figures of every adjunct to the heavens, And characters of signs and erring [29] stars, By which the spirits are enforc'd to rise: Then fear not, Faustus, to be resolute, And try the utmost magic can perform. [Thunder.] Sint mihi dii Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis Dragon, quod tumeraris: [30] per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus [31] Mephistophilis! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. I charge thee to return, and change thy shape; Thou art too ugly to attend on me: Go, and return an old Franciscan friar; That holy shape becomes a devil best. [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] I see there's virtue in my heavenly words. Who would not be proficient in this art? How pliant is this Mephistophilis, Full of obedience and humility! Such is the force of magic and my spells. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS like a Franciscan friar. MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have me do? FAUSTUS. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, To do whatever Faustus shall command, Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, Or the ocean to overwhelm the world. MEPHIST. I am a servant to great Lucifer, And may not follow thee without his leave: No more than he commands must we perform. FAUSTUS. Did not he charge thee to appear to me? MEPHIST. No, I came hither [32] of mine own accord. FAUSTUS. Did not my conjuring speeches [33] raise thee? speak! MEPHIST. That was the cause, but yet per accidens; [34] For, when we hear one rack the name of God, Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, We fly, in hope to get his glorious soul; Nor will we come, unless he use such means Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd. Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring Is stoutly to abjure all godliness, And pray devoutly to the prince of hell. FAUSTUS. So Faustus hath Already done; and holds this principle, There is no chief but only Belzebub; To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. This word "damnation" terrifies not me, For I confound hell in Elysium: My ghost be with the old philosophers! But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, Tell me what is that Lucifer thy lord? MEPHIST. Arch-regent and commander of all spirits. FAUSTUS. Was not that Lucifer an angel once? MEPHIST. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of God. FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that he is prince of devils? MEPHIST. O, by aspiring pride and insolence; For which God threw him from the face of heaven. FAUSTUS. And what are you that live with Lucifer? MEPHIST. Unhappy spirits that fell [35] with Lucifer, Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer. FAUSTUS. Where are you damn'd? MEPHIST. In hell. FAUSTUS. How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell? MEPHIST. Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it: Think'st thou that I, that saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike [36] a terror to my fainting soul! FAUSTUS. What, is great Mephistophilis so passionate For being deprived of the joys of heaven? Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude, And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. Go bear these tidings to great Lucifer: Seeing Faustus hath incurr'd eternal death By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity, Say, he surrenders up to him his soul, So he will spare him four and twenty years, Letting him live in all voluptuousness; Having thee ever to attend on me, To give me whatsoever I shall ask, To tell me whatsoever I demand, To slay mine enemies, and to aid my friends, And always be obedient to my will. Go, and return to mighty Lucifer, And meet me in my study at midnight, And then resolve me of thy master's mind. MEPHIST. I will, Faustus. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophilis. By him I'll be great emperor of the world, And make a bridge thorough [37] the moving air, To pass the ocean with a band of men; I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, And make that country continent to Spain, And both contributary to my crown: The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, Nor any potentate of Germany. Now that I have obtain'd what I desir'd, I'll live in speculation of this art, Till Mephistophilis return again. [Exit.] Enter WAGNER and CLOWN. WAGNER. Come hither, sirrah boy. CLOWN. Boy! O, disgrace to my person! zounds, boy in your face! You have seen many boys with beards, I am sure. WAGNER. Sirrah, [38] hast thou no comings in? CLOWN. Yes, and goings out too, you may see, sir. WAGNER. Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jests in his nakedness! I know the villain's out of service, and so hungry, that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood-raw. CLOWN. Not so neither: I had need to have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear, I can tell you. WAGNER. Sirrah, wilt thou be my man, and wait on me, and I will make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus? CLOWN. What, in verse? WAGNER. No, slave; in beaten silk and staves-acre. CLOWN. Staves-acre! that's good to kill vermin: then, belike, if I serve you, I shall be lousy. WAGNER. Why, so thou shalt be, whether thou dost it or no; for, sirrah, if thou dost not presently bind thyself to me for seven years, I'll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and make them tear thee in pieces. CLOWN. Nay, sir, you may save [39] yourself a labour, for they are as familiar with me as if they paid for their meat and drink, I can tell you. WAGNER. Well, sirrah, leave your jesting, and take these guilders. [Gives money.] CLOWN. Yes, marry, sir; and I thank you too. WAGNER. So, now thou art to be at an hour's warning, whensoever and wheresoever the devil shall fetch thee. CLOWN. Here, take your guilders again; [40] I'll none of 'em. WAGNER. Not I; thou art pressed: prepare thyself, or [41] I will presently raise up two devils to carry thee away.--Banio! Belcher! CLOWN. Belcher! an Belcher come here, I'll belch him: I am not afraid of a devil. Enter two DEVILS. WAGNER. How now, sir! will you serve me now? CLOWN. Ay, good Wagner; take away the devil[s], then. WAGNER. Spirits, away! [Exeunt DEVILS.] Now, sirrah, follow me. CLOWN. I will, sir: but hark you, master; will you teach me this conjuring occupation? WAGNER. Ay, sirrah, I'll teach thee to turn thyself to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any thing. CLOWN. A dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat! O, brave, Wagner! WAGNER. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and see that you walk attentively, and let your right eye be always diametrally fixed upon my left heel, that thou mayst quasi vestigiis nostris [42] insistere. CLOWN. Well, sir, I warrant you. [Exeunt.] FAUSTUS discovered in his study. FAUSTUS. Now, Faustus, Must thou needs be damn'd, canst thou not be sav'd. What boots it, then, to think on God or heaven? Away with such vain fancies, and despair; Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub: Now, go not backward, [43] Faustus; be resolute: Why [44] waver'st thou? O, something soundeth in mine ear, "Abjure this magic, turn to God again!" Why, he loves thee not; The god thou serv'st is thine own appetite, Wherein is fix'd the love of Belzebub: To him I'll build an altar and a church, And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. EVIL ANGEL. Go forward, Faustus, in that famous [45] art. GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, leave that execrable art. FAUSTUS. Contrition, prayer, repentance--what of [46] these? GOOD ANGEL. O, they are means to bring thee unto heaven! EVIL ANGEL. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, That make men [47] foolish that do use them most. GOOD ANGEL. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven and heavenly things. EVIL ANGEL. No, Faustus; think of honour and of wealth. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. Wealth! Why, the signiory of Embden shall be mine. When Mephistophilis shall stand by me, What power can hurt me? Faustus, thou art safe: Cast no more doubts.--Mephistophilis, come, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;-- Is't not midnight?--come Mephistophilis, And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer;-- Is't not midnight?--come Mephistophilis, Veni, veni, Mephistophile! [48] Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. Now tell me what saith Lucifer, thy lord? MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, So he will buy my service with his soul. FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee. MEPHIST. But now thou must bequeath it solemnly, And write a deed of gift with thine own blood; For that security craves Lucifer. If thou deny it, I must back to hell. FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistophilis, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom. FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus? MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. FAUSTUS. Why, have you any pain that torture others? MEPHIST. As great as have the human souls of men. But, tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I will be thy slave, and wait on thee, And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. FAUSTUS. Ay, Mephistophilis, I'll give it thee. [49] MEPHIST. Then, Faustus, stab thine [50] arm courageously, And bind thy soul, that at some certain day Great Lucifer may claim it as his own; And [51] then be thou as great as Lucifer. FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, Faustus hath cut his arm, and with his proper blood Assures his soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night! View here this blood that trickles from mine arm, And let it be propitious for my [52] wish. MEPHIST. But, Faustus, Write it in manner of a deed of gift. FAUSTUS. [Writing] Ay, so I do. But, Mephistophilis, My blood congeals, and I can write no more. MEPHIST. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. What might the staying of my blood portend? Is it [53] unwilling I should write this bill? Why streams it not, that I may write afresh? FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL: O, there it stay'd! Why shouldst thou not? is not thy soul thine own? Then write again, FAUSTUS GIVES TO THEE HIS SOUL. [54] Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with the chafer of fire. MEPHIST. See, Faustus, here is fire; set it on. FAUSTUS. So, now the blood begins to clear again; Now will I make an [55] end immediately. [Writes.] MEPHIST. What will not I do to obtain his soul? [Aside.] FAUSTUS. Consummatum est; this bill is ended, And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer. But what is this inscription on mine arm? Homo, fuge: whither should [56] I fly? If unto God, [57] he'll throw me down to hell. My senses are deceiv'd; here's nothing writ:-- O, yes, I see it plain; even here is writ, Homo, fuge: yet shall not Faustus fly. MEPHIST. I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. [Aside, and then exit.] Enter DEVILS, giving crowns and rich apparel to FAUSTUS. They dance, and then depart. Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. What means this show? speak, Mephistophilis. MEPHIST. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy mind, And let thee see what magic can perform. FAUSTUS. But may I raise such spirits when I please? MEPHIST. Ay, Faustus, and do greater things than these. FAUSTUS. Then, Mephistophilis, receive this scroll, [58] A deed of gift of body and of soul: But yet conditionally that thou perform All covenants and articles between us both! MEPHIST. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer To effect all promises between us both! FAUSTUS. Then hear me read it, Mephistophilis. [Reads.] ON THESE CONDITIONS FOLLOWING. FIRST, THAT FAUSTUS MAY BE A SPIRIT IN FORM AND SUBSTANCE. SECONDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL BE HIS SERVANT, AND BE BY HIM COMMANDED. THIRDLY, THAT MEPHISTOPHILIS SHALL DO FOR HIM, AND BRING HIM WHATSOEVER HE DESIRES. [59] FOURTHLY, THAT HE SHALL BE IN HIS CHAMBER OR HOUSE INVISIBLE. LASTLY, THAT HE SHALL APPEAR TO THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, AT ALL TIMES, IN WHAT SHAPE AND FORM SOEVER HE PLEASE. I, JOHN FAUSTUS, OF WITTENBERG, DOCTOR, BY THESE PRESENTS, DO GIVE BOTH BODY AND SOUL TO LUCIFER PRINCE OF THE EAST, AND HIS MINISTER MEPHISTOPHILIS; AND FURTHERMORE GRANT UNTO THEM, THAT, FOUR-AND- TWENTY YEARS BEING EXPIRED, AND THESE ARTICLES ABOVE-WRITTEN BEING INVIOLATE, FULL POWER TO FETCH OR CARRY THE SAID JOHN FAUSTUS, BODY AND SOUL, FLESH AND [60] BLOOD, INTO THEIR HABITATION WHERESOEVER. BY ME, JOHN FAUSTUS. MEPHIST. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as your deed? FAUSTUS. Ay, take it, and the devil give thee good of it! MEPHIST. So, now, Faustus, ask me what thou wilt. FAUSTUS. First I will question with [61] thee about hell. Tell me, where is the [62] place that men call hell? MEPHIST. Under the heavens. FAUSTUS. Ay, so are all things else; but whereabouts? MEPHIST. Within the bowels of these elements, Where we are tortur'd and remain for ever: Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one self-place; but where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be: And, to be short, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are [63] not heaven. FAUSTUS. I think hell's a fable. [64] MEPHIST. Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind. FAUSTUS. Why, dost thou think that Faustus shall be damn'd? MEPHIST. Ay, of necessity, for here's the scroll In which thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. FAUSTUS. Ay, and body too; and what of that? Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine That, after this life, there is any pain? No, these are trifles and mere old wives' tales. MEPHIST. But I am an instance to prove the contrary, For I tell thee I am damn'd and now in hell. FAUSTUS. Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be damn'd: What! sleeping, eating, walking, and disputing! But, leaving this, let me have a wife, The fairest maid in Germany; For I am wanton and lascivious, And cannot live without a wife. MEPHIST. Well, Faustus, thou shalt have a wife. [MEPHISTOPHILIS fetches in a WOMAN-DEVIL.] FAUSTUS. What sight is this? MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, wilt thou have a wife? FAUSTUS. Here's a hot whore, indeed: no, I'll no wife. MEPHIST. Marriage is but a ceremonial toy, And, if thou lov'st me, think no more of it. I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans, And bring them every morning to thy bed: She whom thine [65] eye shall like, thy [66] heart shall have, Were she as chaste as was [67] Penelope, As wise as Saba, or as beautiful As was bright Lucifer before his fall. Here, take this book, peruse it well: The iterating of these lines brings gold; The framing of this circle on the ground Brings thunder, whirlwinds, storm, and lightning; Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself, And men in harness [68] shall appear to thee, Ready to execute what thou command'st. FAUSTUS. Thanks, Mephistophilis, for this sweet book: This will I keep as chary as my life. [Exeunt.] Enter FAUSTUS, in his study, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. When I behold the heavens, [69] then I repent, And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis, Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys. MEPHIST. 'Twas thine [70] own seeking, Faustus; thank thyself. But, think'st thou heaven is [71] such a glorious thing? I tell thee, Faustus, it is not half so fair As thou, or any man that breathes [72] on earth. FAUSTUS. How prov'st thou that? MEPHIST. 'Twas made for man; then he's more excellent. FAUSTUS. If heaven was made for man, 'twas made for me: I will renounce this magic and repent. Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. GOOD ANGEL. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee. EVIL ANGEL. Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee. FAUSTUS. Who buzzeth in mine ears [73] I am a spirit? Be I a devil, yet God may pity me; Yea, God will pity me, if I repent. EVIL ANGEL. Ay, but Faustus never shall repent. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. My heart is harden'd, I cannot repent; Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven: Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel Are laid before me to despatch myself; And long ere this I [74] should have done the deed, Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair. Have not I made blind Homer sing to me Of Alexander's love and Oenon's death? And hath not he, that built the walls of Thebes With ravishing sound of his melodious harp, Made music with my Mephistophilis? Why should I die, then, or basely despair? I am resolv'd; Faustus shall not repent.-- Come, Mephistophilis, let us dispute again, And reason of divine astrology. Speak, are there many spheres above the moon? Are all celestial bodies but one globe, As is the substance of this centric earth? MEPHIST. As are the elements, such are the heavens, Even from the moon unto th' empyreal orb, Mutually folded in each other's spheres, And jointly move upon one axletree, Whose termine [75] is term'd the world's wide pole; Nor are the names of Saturn, Mars, or Jupiter Feign'd, but are erring [76] stars. FAUSTUS. But have they all one motion, both situ et tempore? MEPHIST. All move from east to west in four-and-twenty hours upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motions upon the poles of the zodiac. FAUSTUS. These slender questions Wagner can decide: Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill? Who knows not the double motion [77] of the planets? That the first is finish'd in a natural day; The second thus; Saturn in thirty years; Jupiter in twelve; Mars in four; the Sun, Venus, and Mercury in a year; the Moon in twenty-eight days. These are freshmen's questions. But tell me, hath every sphere a dominion or intelligentia? MEPHIST. Ay. FAUSTUS. How many heavens or spheres are there? MEPHIST. Nine; the seven planets, the firmament, and the empyreal heaven. FAUSTUS. But is there not coelum igneum et crystallinum? MEPHIST. No, Faustus, they be but fables. FAUSTUS. Resolve me, then, in this one question; why are not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, eclipses, all at one time, but in some years we have more, in some less? MEPHIST. Per inoequalem motum respectu totius. FAUSTUS. Well, I am answered. Now tell me who made the world? MEPHIST. I will not. FAUSTUS. Sweet Mephistophilis, tell me. MEPHIST. Move me not, Faustus. FAUSTUS. Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me any thing? MEPHIST. Ay, [78] that is not against our kingdom; this is. Thou art damned; think thou of hell. FAUSTUS. Think, Faustus, upon God that made the world. MEPHIST. Remember this. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Ay, go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell! 'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul. Is't not too late? Re-enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL. EVIL ANGEL. Too late. GOOD ANGEL. Never too late, if Faustus will repent. EVIL ANGEL. If thou repent, devils will tear thee in pieces. GOOD ANGEL. Repent, and they shall never raze thy skin. [Exeunt ANGELS.] FAUSTUS. O Christ, my Saviour, my Saviour Help to save distressed Faustus' soul! Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. LUCIFER. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just: There's none but I have interest in the same. FAUSTUS. O, what art thou that look'st so terribly? LUCIFER. I am Lucifer, And this is my companion-prince in hell. FAUSTUS. O Faustus, they are come to fetch thy soul! BELZEBUB. We are come to tell thee thou dost injure us. LUCIFER. Thou call'st of Christ, contrary to thy promise. BELZEBUB. Thou shouldst not think on God. LUCIFER. Think of the devil. BELZEBUB. And his dam too. FAUSTUS. Nor will Faustus henceforth: pardon him for this, And Faustus vows never to look to heaven. LUCIFER. So shalt thou shew thyself an obedient servant, And we will highly gratify thee for it. BELZEBUB. Faustus, we are come from hell in person to shew thee some pastime: sit down, and thou shalt behold the Seven Deadly Sins appear to thee in their own proper shapes and likeness. FAUSTUS. That sight will be as pleasant unto me, As Paradise was to Adam the first day Of his creation. LUCIFER. Talk not of Paradise or creation; but mark the show.-- Go, Mephistophilis, and [79] fetch them in. MEPHISTOPHILIS brings in the SEVEN DEADLY SINS. BELZEBUB. Now, Faustus, question them of their names and dispositions. FAUSTUS. That shall I soon.--What art thou, the [80] first? PRIDE. I am Pride. I disdain to have any parents. I am like to Ovid's flea; I can creep into every corner of a wench; sometimes, like a perriwig, I sit upon her brow; next, like a necklace, I hang about her neck; then, like a fan of feathers, I kiss her lips; [81] and then, turning myself to a wrought smock, do what I list. But, fie, what a smell is here! I'll not speak a word more for a king's ransom, unless the ground be perfumed, and covered with cloth of arras. FAUSTUS. Thou art a proud knave, indeed.--What art thou, the second? COVETOUSNESS. I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl, in a leather bag: and, might I now obtain my wish, this house, you, and all, should turn to gold, that I might lock you safe into my chest: O my sweet gold! FAUSTUS. And what art thou, the third? ENVY. I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books burned. I am lean with seeing others eat. O, that there would come a famine over all the world, that all might die, and I live alone! then thou shouldst see how fat I'd be. But must thou sit, and I stand? come down, with a vengeance! FAUSTUS. Out, envious wretch!--But what art thou, the fourth? WRATH. I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce an hour old; and ever since have run [82] up and down the world with this [83] case of rapiers, wounding myself when I could get none to fight withal. I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father. FAUSTUS. And what art thou, the fifth? GLUTTONY. I am Gluttony. My parents are all dead, and the devil a penny they have left me, but a small pension, and that buys me thirty meals a-day and ten bevers,--a small trifle to suffice nature. I come [84] of a royal pedigree: my father was a Gammon of Bacon, my mother was a Hogshead of Claret-wine; my godfathers were these, Peter Pickled-herring and Martin Martlemas-beef; but my godmother, O, she was an ancient gentlewoman; her name was Margery March-beer. Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all my progeny; wilt thou bid me to supper? FAUSTUS. Not I. GLUTTONY. Then the devil choke thee! FAUSTUS. Choke thyself, glutton!--What art thou, the sixth? SLOTH. Heigho! I am Sloth. I was begotten on a sunny bank. Heigho! I'll not speak a word more for a king's ransom. FAUSTUS. And what are you, Mistress Minx, the seventh and last? LECHERY. Who, I, [85] sir? I am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than an ell of fried stock-fish; and the first letter of my name begins with L. [86] LUCIFER. Away to hell, away! On, piper! [Exeunt the SINS.] FAUSTUS. O, how this sight doth delight my soul! LUCIFER. Tut, [87] Faustus, in hell is all manner of delight. FAUSTUS. O, might I see hell, and return again safe, How happy were I then! LUCIFER. Faustus, thou shalt; at midnight I will send for thee. Meanwhile peruse this book and view it throughly, And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt. FAUSTUS. Thanks, mighty Lucifer! This will I keep as chary as my life. LUCIFER. Now, Faustus, farewell. FAUSTUS. Farewell, great Lucifer. [Exeunt LUCIFER and BELZEBUB.] Come, Mephistophilis. [Exeunt.] Enter ROBIN, [88] with a book. ROBIN. What, Dick! look to the horses there, till I come again. I have gotten one of Doctor Faustus' conjuring-books; and now we'll have such knavery as't passes. Enter DICK. DICK. What, Robin! you must come away and walk the horses. ROBIN. I walk the horses! I scorn't, faith: [89] I have other matters in hand: let the horses walk themselves, an they will.-- [Reads.] A per se, a; t, h, e, the; o per se, o; Demy orgon gorgon.-- Keep further from me, O thou illiterate and unlearned hostler! DICK. 'Snails, what hast thou got there? a book! why, thou canst not tell [90] ne'er a word on't. ROBIN. That thou shalt see presently: keep out of the circle, I say, lest I send you into the ostry with a vengeance. DICK. That's like, faith! you had best leave your foolery; for, an my master come, he'll conjure you, faith. ROBIN. My master conjure me! I'll tell thee what; an my master come here, I'll clap as fair a [91] pair of horns on's head as e'er thou sawest in thy life. DICK. Thou need'st [92] not do that, for my mistress hath done it. ROBIN. Ay, there be of us here that have waded as deep into matters as other men, if they were disposed to talk. DICK. A plague take you! I thought you did not sneak up and down after her for nothing. But, I prithee, tell me in good sadness, Robin, is that a conjuring-book? ROBIN. Do but speak what thou'lt have me to do, and I'll do't: if thou'lt dance naked, put off thy clothes, and I'll conjure thee about presently; or, if thou'lt go but to the tavern with me, I'll give thee white wine, red wine, claret-wine, sack, muscadine, malmsey, and whippincrust, hold, belly, hold; [93] and we'll not pay one penny for it. DICK. O, brave! Prithee, [94] let's to it presently, for I am as dry as a dog. ROBIN. Come, then, let's away. [Exeunt.] Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Learned Faustus, To find the secrets of astronomy Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount him [95] up to scale Olympus' top; Where, sitting in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoked dragons' necks, He views [96] the clouds, the planets, and the stars, The tropic zones, and quarters of the sky, From the bright circle of the horned moon Even to the height of Primum Mobile; And, whirling round with this [97] circumference, Within the concave compass of the pole, From east to west his dragons swiftly glide, And in eight days did bring him home again. Not long he stay'd within his quiet house, To rest his bones after his weary toil; But new exploits do hale him out again: And, mounted then upon a dragon's back, That with his wings did part the subtle air, He now is gone to prove cosmography, That measures coasts and kingdoms of the earth; And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, The which this day is highly solemniz'd. [Exit.] Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. Having now, my good Mephistophilis, Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier, Environ'd round [98] with airy mountain-tops, With walls of flint, and deep-entrenched lakes, Not to be won by any conquering prince; From Paris next, coasting the realm of France, We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, [99] Whose banks are set with groves of fruitful vines; Then up to [100] Naples, rich Campania, Whose buildings fair and gorgeous to the eye, The streets straight forth, and pav'd with finest brick, Quarter the town in four equivalents: [101] There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb; The way he cut, an English mile in length, Thorough [102] a rock of stone, in one night's space; From thence to Venice, Padua, and the rest, [103] In one of which a sumptuous temple stands, That threats the stars with her aspiring top, Whose frame is pav'd with sundry-colour'd stones, And roof'd aloft with curious work in gold. Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time: But tell me [104] now, what resting-place is this? Hast thou, as erst I did command, Conducted me within the walls of Rome? MEPHIST. I have, my Faustus; and, for proof thereof, This is the goodly palace of the Pope; And, 'cause we are no common guests, I choose his privy-chamber for our use. FAUSTUS. I hope his Holiness will bid us [105] welcome. MEPHIST. All's one, for we'll be bold with his venison. But now, my Faustus, that thou mayst perceive What Rome contains for to delight thine eyes, Know that this city stands upon seven hills That underprop the groundwork of the same: Just through [106] the midst runs flowing Tiber's stream, With winding banks that cut it in two parts; Over the which two stately bridges lean, That make safe passage to each part of Rome: Upon the bridge call'd Ponte [107] Angelo Erected is a castle passing strong, Where thou shalt see such store of ordnance, As that the double cannons, forg'd of brass, Do match [108] the number of the days contain'd Within the compass of one complete year; Beside the gates, and high pyramides, That Julius Caesar brought from Africa. FAUSTUS. Now, by the kingdoms of infernal rule, Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake Of ever-burning Phlegethon, I swear That I do long to see the [109] monuments And situation of bright-splendent Rome: Come, therefore, let's away. MEPHIST. Nay, stay, my Faustus: I know you'd see the Pope, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, The which, in state and [110] high solemnity, This day, is held through Rome and Italy, In honour of the Pope's triumphant victory. FAUSTUS. Sweet Mephistophilis, thou pleasest me. Whilst I am here on earth, let me be cloy'd With all things that delight the heart of man: My four-and-twenty years of liberty I'll spend in pleasure and in dalliance, That Faustus' name, whilst [111] this bright frame doth stand, May be admir'd thorough [112] the furthest land. MEPHIST. 'Tis well said, Faustus. Come, then, stand by me, And thou shalt see them come immediately. FAUSTUS. Nay, stay, my gentle Mephistophilis, And grant me my [113] request, and then I go. Thou know'st, within the compass of eight days We view'd the face of heaven, of earth, and hell; So high our dragons soar'd into the air, That, looking down, the earth appear'd to me No bigger than my hand in quantity; There did we view the kingdoms of the world, And what might please mine eye I there beheld. Then in this show let me an actor be, That this proud Pope may Faustus' cunning [114] see. MEPHIST. Let it be so, my Faustus. But, first, stay, And view their triumphs as they pass this way; And then devise what best contents thy mind, By cunning in thine art to cross the Pope, Or dash the pride of this [115] solemnity; To make his monks and abbots stand like apes, And point like antics at [116] his triple crown; To beat the beads about the friars' pates, Or clap huge horns upon the Cardinals' heads; Or any villany thou canst devise; And I'll perform it, [117] Faustus. Hark! they come: This day shall make thee be admir'd in Rome. Enter the CARDINALS and BISHOPS, some bearing crosiers, some the pillars; MONKS and FRIARS, singing their procession; then the POPE, RAYMOND king of Hungary, the ARCHBISHOP OF RHEIMS, BRUNO led in chains, and ATTENDANTS. POPE. Cast down our footstool. RAYMOND. Saxon Bruno, stoop, Whilst on thy back his Holiness ascends Saint Peter's chair and state pontifical. BRUNO. Proud Lucifer, that state belongs to me; But thus I fall to Peter, not to thee. POPE. To me and Peter shalt thou grovelling lie, And crouch before the Papal dignity.-- Sound trumpets, then; for thus Saint Peter's heir, From Bruno's back, ascends Saint Peter's chair. [A flourish while he ascends.] Thus, as the gods creep on with feet of wool, Long ere with iron hands they punish men, So shall our sleeping vengeance now arise, And smite with death thy hated enterprise. [118]-- Lord Cardinals of France and Padua, Go forthwith to our [119] holy consistory, And read, amongst the statutes decretal, What, by the holy council held at Trent, The sacred synod hath decreed for him That doth assume the Papal government Without election and a true consent: Away, and bring us word with speed. CARDINAL OF FRANCE. We go, my lord. [Exeunt CARDINALS of France and Padua.] POPE. Lord Raymond. [They converse in dumb show.] FAUSTUS. Go, haste thee, gentle Mephistophilis, Follow the cardinals to the consistory; And, as they turn their superstitious books, Strike them with sloth and drowsy idleness, And make them sleep so sound, that in their shapes Thyself and I may parley with this [120] Pope, This proud confronter of the Emperor; And, in despite of all his holiness, Restore this Bruno to his liberty, And bear him to the states of Germany. MEPHIST. Faustus, I go. FAUSTUS. Despatch it soon: The Pope shall curse, that Faustus came to Rome. [Exeunt FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS.] BRUNO. Pope Adrian, let me have right [121] of law: I was elected by the Emperor. POPE. We will depose the Emperor for that deed, And curse the people that submit to him: Both he and thou shall [122] stand excommunicate, And interdict from church's privilege And all society of holy men. He grows too proud in his authority, Lifting his lofty head above the clouds, And, like a steeple, overpeers the church: But we'll pull down his haughty insolence; And, as Pope Alexander, our progenitor, Trod on the neck of German Frederick, Adding this golden sentence to our praise, "That Peter's heirs should tread on Emperors, And walk upon the dreadful adder's back, Treading the lion and the dragon down, And fearless spurn the killing basilisk," So will we quell that haughty schismatic, And, by authority apostolical, Depose him from his regal government. BRUNO. Pope Julius swore to princely Sigismond, For him and the succeeding Popes of Rome, To hold the Emperors their lawful lords. POPE. Pope Julius did abuse the church's rights, And therefore none of his decrees can stand. Is not all power on earth bestow'd on us? And therefore, though we would, we cannot err. Behold this silver belt, whereto is fix'd Seven golden seals, fast sealed with seven seals, In token of our seven-fold power from heaven, To bind or loose, lock fast, condemn or judge, Resign or seal, or what so pleaseth us: Then he and thou, and all the world, shall stoop, Or be assured of our dreadful curse, To light as heavy as the pains of hell. Re-enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS, in the shapes of the CARDINALS of France and Padua. MEPHIST. Now tell me, Faustus, are we not fitted well? FAUSTUS. Yes, Mephistophilis; and two such cardinals Ne'er serv'd a holy Pope as we shall do. But, whilst they sleep within the consistory, Let us salute his reverend fatherhood. RAYMOND. Behold, my lord, the Cardinals are return'd. POPE. Welcome, grave fathers: answer presently What hath [123] our holy council there decreed Concerning Bruno and the Emperor, In quittance of their late conspiracy Against our state and papal dignity? FAUSTUS. Most sacred patron of the church of Rome, By full consent of all the synod [124] Of priests and prelates, it is thus decreed,-- That Bruno and the German Emperor Be held as Lollards and bold schismatics, And proud disturbers of the church's peace; And if that Bruno, by his own assent, Without enforcement of the German peers, Did seek to wear the triple diadem, And by your death to climb Saint Peter's chair, The statutes decretal have thus decreed,-- He shall be straight condemn'd of heresy, And on a pile of faggots burnt to death. POPE. It is enough. Here, take him to your charge, And bear him straight to Ponte [125] Angelo, And in the strongest tower enclose him fast. To-morrow, sitting in our consistory, With all our college of grave cardinals, We will determine of his life or death. Here, take his [126] triple crown along with you, And leave it in the church's treasury. Make haste again, my good Lord Cardinals, And take our blessing apostolical. MEPHIST. So, so; was never devil thus bless'd before. FAUSTUS. Away, sweet Mephistophilis, be gone; The Cardinals will be plagu'd for this anon. [Exeunt FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS with BRUNO.] POPE. Go presently and bring a banquet forth, That we may solemnize Saint Peter's feast, And with Lord Raymond, King of Hungary, Drink to our late and happy victory. A Sennet [127] while the banquet is brought in; and then enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS in their own shapes. MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, come, prepare thyself for mirth: The sleepy Cardinals are hard at hand, To censure Bruno, that is posted hence, And on a proud-pac'd steed, as swift as thought, Flies o'er the Alps to fruitful Germany, There to salute the woful Emperor. FAUSTUS. The Pope will curse them for their sloth to-day, That slept both Bruno and his crown away. But now, that Faustus may delight his mind, And by their folly make some merriment, Sweet Mephistophilis, so charm me here, That I may walk invisible to all, And do whate'er I please, unseen of any. MEPHIST. Faustus, thou shalt: then kneel down presently, Whilst on thy head I lay my hand, And charm thee with this magic wand. First, wear this girdle; then appear Invisible to all are here: The planets seven, the gloomy air, Hell, and the Furies' forked hair, Pluto's blue fire, and Hecat's tree, With magic spells so compass thee, That no eye may thy body see! So, Faustus, now, for all their holiness, Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discern'd. FAUSTUS. Thanks, Mephistophilis.--Now, friars, take heed, Lest Faustus make your shaven crowns to bleed. MEPHIST. Faustus, no more: see, where the Cardinals come! Re-enter the CARDINALS of France and Padua with a book. POPE. Welcome, Lord Cardinals; come, sit down.-- Lord Raymond, take your seat.--Friars, attend, And see that all things be [128] in readiness, As best beseems this solemn festival. CARDINAL OF FRANCE. First, may it please your sacred Holiness To view the sentence of the reverend synod Concerning Bruno and the Emperor? POPE. What needs this question? did I not tell you, To-morrow we would sit i' the consistory, And there determine of his punishment? You brought us word even now, it was decreed That Bruno and the cursed Emperor Were by the holy council both condemn'd For loathed Lollards and base schismatics: Then wherefore would you have me view that book? CARDINAL OF FRANCE. Your grace mistakes; you gave us no such charge. RAYMOND. Deny it not; we all are witnesses That Bruno here was late deliver'd you, With his rich triple crown to be reserv'd And put into the church's treasury. BOTH CARDINALS. By holy Paul, we saw them not! POPE. By Peter, you shall die, Unless you bring them forth immediately!-- Hale them to [129] prison, lade their limbs with gyves.-- False prelates, for this hateful treachery Curs'd be your souls to hellish misery! [Exeunt ATTENDANTS with the two CARDINALS.] FAUSTUS. So, they are safe. Now, Faustus, to the feast: The Pope had never such a frolic guest. POPE. Lord Archbishop of Rheims, sit down with us. ARCHBISHOP. [130] I thank your Holiness. FAUSTUS. Fall to; the devil choke you, [131] an you spare! POPE. Who is that spoke?--Friars, look about.-- Lord Raymond, pray, fall to. I am beholding [132] To the Bishop of Milan for this so rare a present. FAUSTUS. I thank you, sir. [Snatches the dish.] POPE. How now! who snatch'd the meat from me? Villains, why speak you not?-- My good Lord Archbishop, here's a most dainty dish Was sent me from a cardinal in France. FAUSTUS. I'll have that too. [Snatches the dish.] POPE. What Lollards do attend our holiness, That we receive such [133] great indignity? Fetch me some wine. FAUSTUS. Ay, pray, do, for Faustus is a-dry. POPE. Lord Raymond, I drink unto your grace. FAUSTUS. I pledge your grace. [Snatches the cup.] POPE. My wine gone too!--Ye lubbers, look about, And find the man that doth this villany, Or, by our sanctitude, you all shall die!-- I pray, my lords, have patience at this Troublesome banquet. ARCHBISHOP. Please it [134] your Holiness, I think it be some ghost crept out of Purgatory, and now is come unto your Holiness for his pardon. POPE. It may be so.-- Go, then, command our priests to sing a dirge, To lay the fury of this same troublesome ghost. [Exit an ATTENDANT.--The POPE crosses himself.] FAUSTUS. How now! must every bit be spic'd with a cross?-- Nay, then, take that. [Strikes the POPE.] POPE. O, I am slain!--Help me, my lords! O, come and help to bear my body hence!-- Damn'd be his [135] soul for ever for this deed! [Exeunt all except FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS.] MEPHIST. Now, Faustus, what will you do now? for I can tell you you'll be cursed with bell, book, and candle. FAUSTUS. Bell, book, and candle,--candle, book, and bell,-- Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell! Re-enter the FRIARS, with bell, book, and candle, for the Dirge. FIRST FRIAR. Come, brethren, lets about our business with good devotion. [They sing.] CURSED BE HE THAT STOLE HIS HOLINESS' MEAT FROM THE TABLE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT STRUCK [136] HIS HOLINESS A BLOW ON [137] THE FACE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT STRUCK FRIAR SANDELO A BLOW ON THE PATE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT DISTURBETH OUR HOLY DIRGE! maledicat Dominus! CURSED BE HE THAT TOOK AWAY HIS HOLINESS' WINE! maledicat Dominus! [MEPHISTOPHILIS and FAUSTUS beat the FRIARS, and fling fire-works among them, and exeunt.] Enter ROBIN and DICK with a cup. DICK. Sirrah Robin, we were best look that your devil can answer the stealing of this same [138] cup, for the Vintner's boy follows us at the hard heels. [139] ROBIN. 'Tis no matter; let him come: an he follow us, I'll so conjure him as he was never conjured in his life, I warrant him. Let me see the cup. DICK. Here 'tis. [Gives the cup to ROBIN.] Yonder he comes: now, Robin, now or never shew thy cunning. Enter VINTNER. [140] VINTNER. O, are you here? I am glad I have found you. You are a couple of fine companions: pray, where's the cup you stole from the tavern? ROBIN. How, how! we steal a cup! take heed what you say: we look not like cup-stealers, I can tell you. VINTNER. Never deny't, for I know you have it; and I'll search you. ROBIN. Search me! ay, and spare not. --Hold the cup, Dick [Aside to DICK, giving him the cup].-- Come, come, search me, search me. [VINTNER searches him.] VINTNER. Come on, sirrah, let me search you now. DICK. Ay, ay, do, do. --Hold the cup, Robin [Aside to ROBIN, giving him the cup].-- I fear not your searching: we scorn to steal your [141] cups, I can tell you. [VINTNER searches him.] VINTNER. Never out-face me for the matter; for, sure, the cup is between you two. ROBIN. Nay, there you lie; 'tis beyond us both. VINTNER. A plague take you! I thought 'twas your knavery to take it away: come, give it me again. ROBIN. Ay, much! [142] when, can you tell?--Dick, make me a circle, and stand close at my back, and stir not for thy life.--Vintner, you shall have your cup anon.--Say nothing, Dick.--[Reads from a book] O per se, O; Demogorgon; Belcher, and Mephistophilis! Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS. MEPHIST. You princely legions of infernal rule, How am I vexed by these villains' charms! From Constantinople have they brought me now, Only for pleasure of these damned slaves. [Exit VINTNER.] ROBIN. By lady, [143] sir, you have had a shrewd journey of it! will it please you to [144] take a shoulder of mutton to supper, and a tester [145] in your purse, and go back again? DICK. Ay, I pray you heartily, sir; for we called you but in jest, I promise you. MEPHIST. To purge the rashness of this cursed deed, First, be thou turned to this ugly shape, For apish deeds transformed to an ape. ROBIN. O, brave! an ape! I pray, sir, let me have the carrying of him about, to shew some tricks. MEPHIST. And so thou shalt: be thou transformed to a dog, and carry him upon thy back. Away! be gone! ROBIN. A dog! that's excellent: let the maids look well to their porridge-pots, for I'll into the kitchen presently.--Come, Dick, come. [Exeunt ROBIN and DICK.] MEPHIST. Now with the flames of ever-burning fire I'll wing myself, and forthwith fly amain(sic) Unto my Faustus, to the Great Turk's court. [Exit.] Enter MARTINO and FREDERICK at several doors. MARTINO. What, ho, officers, gentlemen! Hie to the presence to attend the Emperor.-- Good Frederick, see the rooms be voided straight: His majesty is coming to the hall; Go back, and see the state [146] in readiness. FREDERICK. But where is Bruno, our elected Pope, That on a Fury's back came post from Rome? Will not his grace consort the Emperor? MARTINO. O, yes; and with him comes the German conjurer, The learned Faustus, fame of Wittenberg, The wonder of the world for magic art; And he intends to shew great Carolus The race of all his stout progenitors, And bring in presence of his majesty The royal shapes and perfect [147] semblances Of Alexander and his beauteous paramour. FREDERICK. Where is Benvolio? MARTINO. Fast asleep, I warrant you; He took his rouse [148] with stoops of Rhenish wine So kindly yesternight to Bruno's health, That all this day the sluggard keeps his bed. FREDERICK. See, see, his window's ope! we'll call to him. MARTINO. What, ho! Benvolio! Enter BENVOLIO above, at a window, in his nightcap, buttoning. BENVOLIO. What a devil ail you two? MARTINO. Speak softly, sir, lest the devil hear you; For Faustus at the court is late arriv'd, And at his heels a [149] thousand Furies wait, To accomplish whatsoe'er the doctor please. BENVOLIO. What of this? MARTINO. Come, leave thy chamber first, and thou shalt see This conjurer perform such rare exploits, Before the Pope and royal Emperor, As never yet was seen in Germany. BENVOLIO. Has not the Pope enough of conjuring yet? He was upon the devil's back late enough: An if he be so far in love with him, I would he would post with him to Rome again! FREDERICK. Speak, wilt thou come and see this sport? BENVOLIO. Not I. MARTINO. Wilt thou stand in thy window, and see it, then? BENVOLIO. Ay, an I fall not asleep i' the mean time. MARTINO. The Emperor is at hand, who comes to see What wonders by black spells may compass'd be. BENVOLIO. Well, go you attend the Emperor. I am content, for this once, to thrust my head out at a [150] window; for they say, if a man be drunk over night, the devil cannot hurt him in the morning: if that be true, I have a charm in my head, shall control him as well as the conjurer, I warrant you. [Exeunt FREDERICK and MARTINO.] A Sennet. Enter CHARLES the German Emperor, BRUNO, DUKE OF SAXONY, FAUSTUS, MEPHISTOPHILIS, FREDERICK, MARTINO, and Attendants. EMPEROR. Wonder of men, renowm'd [151] magician, Thrice-learned Faustus, welcome to our court. This deed of thine, in setting Bruno free From his and our professed enemy, Shall add more excellence unto thine art Than if by powerful necromantic spells Thou couldst command the world's obedience: For ever be belov'd of Carolus! And if this Bruno, thou hast late redeem'd, In peace possess the triple diadem, And sit in Peter's chair, despite of chance, Thou shalt be famous through [152] all Italy, And honour'd of the German Emperor. FAUSTUS. These [153] gracious words, most royal Carolus, Shall make poor Faustus, to his utmost power, Both love and serve the German Emperor, And lay his life at holy Bruno's feet: For proof whereof, if so your grace be pleas'd, The doctor stands prepar'd by power of art To cast his magic charms, that shall pierce through [154] The ebon gates of ever-burning hell, And hale the stubborn Furies from their caves, To compass whatsoe'er your grace commands. BENVOLIO. Blood, he speaks terribly! but, for all that, I do not greatly believe him: he looks as like a [155] conjurer as the Pope to a costermonger. [Aside.] EMPEROR. Then, Faustus, as thou late didst promise us, We would behold that famous conqueror, Great Alexander, and his paramour, In their true shapes and state majestical, That we may wonder at their excellence. FAUSTUS. Your majesty shall see them presently.-- Mephistophilis, away, And, with a solemn noise of trumpets' sound, Present before this [156] royal Emperor Great Alexander and his beauteous paramour. MEPHIST. Faustus, I will. [Exit.] BENVOLIO. Well, Master Doctor, an your devils come not away quickly, you shall have me asleep presently: zounds, I could eat myself for anger, to think I have been such an ass all this while, to stand gaping after the devil's governor, and can see nothing! FAUSTUS. I'll make you feel something anon, if my art fail me not.-- My lord, I must forewarn your majesty, That, when my spirits present the royal shapes Of Alexander and his paramour, Your grace demand [157] no questions of the king, But in dumb silence let them come and go. EMPEROR. Be it as Faustus please; we are content. BENVOLIO. Ay, ay, and I am content too: an thou bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor, I'll be Actaeon, and turn myself to a stag. FAUSTUS. And I'll play Diana, and send you the horns presently. Sennet. Enter, at one door, [158] the EMPEROR ALEXANDER, at the other, DARIUS. They meet. DARIUS is thrown down; ALEXANDER kills him, takes off his crown, and, offering to go out, his PARAMOUR meets him. He embraceth her, and sets DARIUS' crown upon her head; and, coming back, both salute the EMPEROR, who, leaving his state, [159] offers to embrace them; which FAUSTUS seeing, suddenly stays him. Then trumpets cease, and music sounds. My gracious lord, you do forget yourself; These [160] are but shadows, not substantial. EMPEROR. O, pardon me! my thoughts are so ravish'd With sight of this renowmed [161] emperor, That in mine arms I would have compass'd him. But, Faustus, since I may not speak to them, To satisfy my longing thoughts [162] at full, Let me this tell thee: I have heard it said That this fair lady, whilst [163] she liv'd on earth, Had on her neck a little wart or mole; How may I prove that saying to be true? FAUSTUS. Your majesty may boldly go and see. EMPEROR. Faustus, I see it plain; And in this sight thou better pleasest me Than if I gain'd [164] another monarchy. FAUSTUS. Away! be gone! [Exit show.]--See, see, my gracious lord! what strange beast is yon, that thrusts his head out at window? [165] EMPEROR. O, wondrous sight!--See, Duke of Saxony, Two spreading horns most strangely fastened Upon the head of young Benvolio! SAXONY. What, is he asleep or dead? FAUSTUS. He sleeps, my lord; but dreams not of his horns. EMPEROR. This sport is excellent: we'll call and wake him.-- What, ho, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. A plague upon you! let me sleep a while. EMPEROR. I blame thee not to sleep much, having such a head of thine own. SAXONY. Look up, Benvolio; 'tis the Emperor calls. BENVOLIO. The Emperor! where?--O, zounds, my head! EMPEROR. Nay, an thy horns hold, 'tis no matter for thy head, for that's armed sufficiently. FAUSTUS. Why, how now, Sir Knight! what, hanged by the horns! this is [166] most horrible: fie, fie, pull in your head, for shame! let not all the world wonder at you. BENVOLIO. Zounds, doctor, this is [167] your villany! FAUSTUS. O, say not so, sir! the doctor has no skill, No art, no cunning, to present these lords, Or bring before this royal Emperor The mighty monarch, warlike Alexander. If Faustus do it, you are straight resolv'd, In bold Actaeon's shape, to turn a stag:-- And therefore, my lord, so please your majesty, I'll raise a kennel of hounds shall hunt him so As [168] all his footmanship shall scarce prevail To keep his carcass from their bloody fangs.-- Ho, Belimoth, Argiron, Asteroth! [169] BENVOLIO. Hold, hold!--Zounds, he'll raise up a kennel of devils, I think, anon.--Good my lord, entreat for me.--'Sblood, I am never able to endure these torments. EMPEROR. Then, good Master Doctor, Let me entreat you to remove his horns; He has [170] done penance now sufficiently. FAUSTUS. My gracious lord, not so much for injury done to me, as to delight your majesty with some mirth, hath Faustus justly requited this injurious knight; which being all I desire, I am content to remove his horns. [171]--Mephistophilis, transform him [MEPHISTOPHILIS removes the horns]:--and hereafter, sir, [172] look you speak well of scholars. BENVOLIO. Speak well of ye! 'sblood, an scholars be such cuckold-makers, to clap horns of [173] honest men's heads o' this order, I'll ne'er trust smooth faces and small ruffs more.--But, an I be not revenged for this, would I might be turned to a gaping oyster, and drink nothing but salt water! [Aside, and then exit above.] EMPEROR. Come, Faustus: while the Emperor lives, In recompense of this thy high desert, Thou shalt command the state of Germany, And live belov'd of mighty Carolus. [Exeunt.] Enter BENVOLIO, MARTINO, FREDERICK, and SOLDIERS. MARTINO. Nay, sweet Benvolio, let us sway [174] thy thoughts From this attempt against the conjurer. [175] BENVOLIO. Away! you love me not, to urge me thus: Shall I let slip so great an injury, When every servile groom jests at my wrongs, And in their rustic gambols proudly say, "Benvolio's head was grac'd with horns today?" O, may these eyelids never close again, Till with my sword I have that [176] conjurer slain! If you will aid me in this enterprise, Then draw your weapons and be resolute; If not, depart: here will Benvolio die, But Faustus' death shall quit my [177] infamy. FREDERICK. Nay, we will stay with thee, betide what may, And kill that [178] doctor, if he come this way. BENVOLIO. Then, gentle Frederick, hie thee to the grove, And place our servants and our followers Close in an [179] ambush there behind the trees. By this, I know the conjurer is near: I saw him kneel, and kiss the Emperor's hand, And take his leave, laden with rich rewards. Then, soldiers, boldly [180] fight: if Faustus die, Take you the wealth, leave us the victory. FREDERICK. Come, soldiers, follow me unto the grove: Who kills him shall have gold and endless love. [Exit FREDERICK with SOLDIERS.] BENVOLIO. My head is lighter, than it was, by the horns; But yet my heart's [181] more ponderous than my head, And pants until I see that [182] conjurer dead. MARTINO. Where shall we place ourselves, Benvolio? BENVOLIO. Here will we stay to bide the first assault: O, were that damned hell-hound but in place, Thou soon shouldst see me quit my foul disgrace! Re-enter FREDERICK. FREDERICK. Close, close! the conjurer is at hand, And all alone comes walking in his gown; Be ready, then, and strike the [183] peasant down. BENVOLIO. Mine be that honour, then. Now, sword, strike home! For horns he gave I'll have his head anon. MARTINO. See, see, he comes! Enter FAUSTUS with a false head. BENVOLIO. No words. This blow ends all: Hell take his soul! his body thus must fall. [Stabs FAUSTUS.] FAUSTUS. [falling.] O! FREDERICK. Groan you, Master Doctor? BENVOLIO. Break may his heart with groans!--Dear Frederick, see, Thus will I end his griefs immediately. MARTINO. Strike with a willing hand. [BENVOLIO strikes off FAUSTUS' head.] His head is off. BENVOLIO. The devil's dead; the Furies now [184] may laugh. FREDERICK. Was this that stern aspect, that awful frown, Made the grim monarch of infernal spirits Tremble and quake at his commanding charms? MARTINO. Was this that damned head, whose art [185] conspir'd Benvolio's shame before the Emperor? BENVOLIO. Ay, that's the head, and there [186] the body lies, Justly rewarded for his villanies. FREDERICK. Come, let's devise how we may add more shame To the black scandal of his hated name. BENVOLIO. First, on his head, in quittance of my wrongs, I'll nail huge forked horns, and let them hang Within the window where he yok'd me first, That all the world may see my just revenge. MARTINO. What use shall we put his beard to? BENVOLIO. We'll sell it to a chimney-sweeper: it will wear out ten birchen brooms, I warrant you. FREDERICK. What shall his [187] eyes do? BENVOLIO. We'll pull [188] out his eyes; and they shall serve for buttons to his lips, to keep his tongue from catching cold. MARTINO. An excellent policy! and now, sirs, having divided him, what shall the body do? [FAUSTUS rises.] BENVOLIO. Zounds, the devil's alive again! FREDERICK. Give him his head, for God's sake. FAUSTUS. Nay, keep it: Faustus will have heads and hands, Ay, all [189] your hearts to recompense this deed. Knew you not, traitors, I was limited For four-and-twenty years to breathe on earth? And, had you cut my body with your swords, Or hew'd this flesh and bones as small as sand, Yet in a minute had my spirit return'd, And I had breath'd a man, made free from harm. But wherefore do I dally my revenge?-- Asteroth, Belimoth, Mephistophilis? Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS, and other Devils. Go, horse these traitors on your fiery backs, And mount aloft with them as high as heaven: Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell. Yet, stay: the world shall see their misery, And hell shall after plague their treachery. Go, Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence, And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt. Take thou this other, drag him through [190] the woods Amongst [191] the pricking thorns and sharpest briers; Whilst, with my gentle Mephistophilis, This traitor flies unto some steepy rock, That, rolling down, may break the villain's bones, As he intended to dismember me. Fly hence; despatch my charge immediately. FREDERICK. Pity us, gentle Faustus! save our lives! FAUSTUS. Away! FREDERICK. He must needs go that the devil drives. [Exeunt MEPHISTOPHILIS and DEVILS with BENVOLIO, MARTINO, and FREDERICK.] Enter the ambushed SOLDIERS. [192] FIRST SOLDIER. Come, sirs, prepare yourselves in readiness; Make haste to help these noble gentlemen: I heard them parley with the conjurer. SECOND SOLDIER. See, where he comes! despatch and kill the slave. FAUSTUS. What's here? an ambush to betray my life! Then, Faustus, try thy skill.--Base peasants, stand! For, lo, these [193] trees remove at my command, And stand as bulwarks 'twixt yourselves and me, To shield me from your hated treachery! Yet, to encounter this your weak attempt, Behold, an army comes incontinent! FAUSTUS strikes the door, [194] and enter a DEVIL playing on a drum; after him another, bearing an ensign; and divers with weapons; MEPHISTOPHILIS with fire-works. They set upon the SOLDIERS, drive them out, and exeunt. Enter, at several doors, BENVOLIO, FREDERICK, and MARTINO, their heads and faces bloody, and besmeared with mud and dirt; all having horns on their heads. MARTINO. What, ho, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Here.--What, Frederick, ho! FREDERICK. O, help me, gentle friend!--Where is Martino? MARTINO. Dear Frederick, here, Half smother'd in a lake of mud and dirt, Through which the Furies dragg'd me by the heels. FREDERICK. Martino, see, Benvolio's horns again! MARTINO. O, misery!--How now, Benvolio! BENVOLIO. Defend me, heaven! shall I be haunted still? MARTINO. Nay, fear not, man; we have no power to kill. BENVOLIO. My friends transformed thus! O, hellish spite! Your heads are all set with horns. FREDERICK. You hit it right; It is your own you mean; feel on your head. BENVOLIO. Zounds, [195] horns again! MARTINO. Nay, chafe not, man; we all are [196] sped. BENVOLIO. What devil attends this damn'd magician, That, spite of spite, our wrongs are doubled? FREDERICK. What may we do, that we may hide our shames? BENVOLIO. If we should follow him to work revenge, He'd join long asses' ears to these huge horns, And make us laughing-stocks to all the world. MARTINO. What shall we, then, do, dear Benvolio? BENVOLIO. I have a castle joining near these woods; And thither we'll repair, and live obscure, Till time shall alter these [197] our brutish shapes: Sith black disgrace hath thus eclips'd our fame, We'll rather die with grief than live with shame. [Exeunt.] Enter FAUSTUS, a HORSE-COURSER, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. HORSE-COURSER. I beseech your worship, accept of these forty dollars. FAUSTUS. Friend, thou canst not buy so good a horse for so small a price. I have no great need to sell him: but, if thou likest him for ten dollars more, take him, because I see thou hast a good mind to him. HORSE-COURSER. I beseech you, sir, accept of this: I am a very poor man, and have lost very much of late by horse-flesh, and this bargain will set me up again. FAUSTUS. Well, I will not stand with thee: give me the money [HORSE-COURSER gives FAUSTUS the money]. Now, sirrah, I must tell you that you may ride him o'er hedge and ditch, and spare him not; but, do you hear? in any case, ride him not into the water. HORSE-COURSER. How, sir! not into the water! why, will he not drink of all waters? FAUSTUS. Yes, he will drink of all waters; but ride him not into the water: o'er hedge and ditch, or where thou wilt, but not into the water. Go, bid the hostler deliver him unto you, and remember what I say. HORSE-COURSER. I warrant you, sir!--O, joyful day! now am I a made man for ever. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. What art thou, Faustus, but a man condemn'd to die? Thy fatal time draws to a final end; Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts: Confound these passions with a quiet sleep: Tush, Christ did call the thief upon the Cross; Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit. [He sits to sleep.] Re-enter the HORSE-COURSER, wet. HORSE-COURSER. 0, what a cozening doctor was this! I, riding my horse into the water, thinking some hidden mystery had been in the horse, I had nothing under me but a little straw, and had much ado to escape [198] drowning. Well, I'll go rouse him, and make him give me my forty dollars again.--Ho, sirrah Doctor, you cozening scab! Master Doctor, awake, and rise, and give me my money again, for your horse is turned to a bottle of hay, Master Doctor! [He pulls off FAUSTUS' leg]. Alas, I am undone! what shall I do? I have pulled off his leg. FAUSTUS. O, help, help! the villain hath murdered me. HORSE-COURSER. Murder or not murder, now he has [199] but one leg, I'll outrun him, and cast this leg into some ditch or other. [Aside, and then runs out.] FAUSTUS. Stop him, stop him, stop him!--Ha, ha, ha! Faustus hath his leg again, and the Horse-courser a bundle of hay for his forty dollars. Enter WAGNER. How now, Wagner! what news with thee? WAGNER. If it please you, the Duke of Vanholt doth earnestly entreat your company, and hath sent some of his men to attend you, [200] with provision fit for your journey. FAUSTUS. The Duke of Vanholt's an honourable gentleman, and one to whom I must be no niggard of my cunning. Come, away! [Exeunt. Enter ROBIN, DICK, the HORSE-COURSER, and a CARTER. CARTER. Come, my masters, I'll bring you to the best beer in Europe.--What, ho, hostess! where be these whores? Enter HOSTESS. HOSTESS. How now! what lack you? What, my old guess! [201] welcome. ROBIN. Sirrah Dick, dost thou [202] know why I stand so mute? DICK. No, Robin: why is't? ROBIN. I am eighteen-pence on the score. but say nothing; see if she have forgotten me. HOSTESS. Who's this that stands so solemnly by himself? What, my old guest! ROBIN. O, hostess, how do you? I hope my score stands still. HOSTESS. Ay, there's no doubt of that; for methinks you make no haste to wipe it out. DICK. Why, hostess, I say, fetch us some beer. HOSTESS. You shall presently.--Look up into the hall there, ho! [Exit.--Drink is presently brought in.] DICK. Come, sirs, what shall we do now [203] till mine hostess comes? CARTER. Marry, sir, [204] I'll tell you the bravest tale how a conjurer served me. You know Doctor Faustus? HORSE-COURSER. Ay, a plague take him! here's some on's have cause to know him. Did he conjure thee too? CARTER. I'll tell you how he served me. As I was going to Wittenberg, t'other day, [205] with a load of hay, he met me, and asked me what he should give me for as much hay as he could eat. Now, sir, I thinking that a little would serve his turn, bad him take as much as he would for three farthings: so he presently gave me my [206] money and fell to eating; and, as I am a cursen [207] man, he never left eating till he had eat up all my load of hay. ALL. O, monstrous! eat a whole load of hay! ROBIN. Yes, yes, that may be; for I have heard of one that has eat a load of logs. HORSE-COURSER. Now, sirs, you shall hear how villanously he served me. I went to him yesterday to buy a horse of him, and he would by no means sell him under forty dollars. So, sir, because I knew him to be such a horse as would run over hedge and ditch and never tire, I gave him his money. So, when I had my horse, Doctor Faustus bad me ride him night and day, and spare him no time; but, quoth he, in any case, ride him not into the water. Now, sir, I thinking the horse had had some quality [208] that he would not have me know of, what did I but rid [209] him into a great river? and when I came just in the midst, my horse vanished away, and I sate straddling upon a bottle of hay. ALL. O, brave doctor! HORSE-COURSER. But you shall hear how bravely I served him for it. I went me home to his house, and there I found him asleep. I kept a hallooing and whooping in his ears; but all could not wake him. I, seeing that, took him by the leg, and never rested pulling till I had pulled me his leg quite off; and now 'tis at home in mine hostry. ROBIN. And has the doctor but one leg, then? that's excellent; for one of his devils turned me into the likeness of an ape's face. CARTER. Some more drink, hostess! ROBIN. Hark you, we'll into another room and drink a while, and then we'll go seek out the doctor. [Exeunt.] Enter the DUKE OF VANHOLT, his DUCHESS, FAUSTUS, MEPHISTOPHILIS, and ATTENDANTS. DUKE. Thanks, Master Doctor, for these pleasant sights; nor know I how sufficiently to recompense your great deserts in erecting that enchanted castle in the air, [210] the sight whereof so delighted [211] me as nothing in the world could please me more. FAUSTUS. I do think myself, my good lord, highly recompensed in that it pleaseth [212] your grace to think but well of that which Faustus hath performed.--But, gracious lady, it may be that you have taken no pleasure in those sights; therefore, I pray you tell me, what is the thing you most desire to have; be it in the world, it shall be yours: I have heard that great-bellied women do long for things are rare and dainty. DUCHESS. True, Master Doctor; and, since I find you so kind, I will make known unto you what my heart desires to have; and, were it now summer, as it is January, a dead time of the winter, I would request no better meat than a dish of ripe grapes. FAUSTUS. This is but a small matter.--Go, Mephistophilis; away! [Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.] Madam, I will do more than this for your content. Re-Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS with grapes. Here now, taste you these: they should be good, for they come [213] from a far country, I can tell you. DUKE. This makes me wonder more than all the rest, that at this time of the year, when every tree is barren of his fruit, from whence you had these ripe grapes. [214] FAUSTUS. Please it your grace, the year is divided into two circles over the whole world; so that, when it is winter with us, in the contrary circle it is likewise summer with them, as in India, Saba, and such countries that lie far east, where they have fruit twice a-year; from whence, by means of a swift spirit that I have, I had these grapes brought, as you see. DUCHESS. And, trust me, they are the sweetest grapes that e'er I tasted. The CLOWNS bounce [215] at the gate, within. DUKE. What rude disturbers have we at the gate? Go, pacify their fury, set it ope, And then demand of them what they would have. [They knock again, and call out to talk with FAUSTUS.] SERVANT. Why, how now, masters! what a coil is there! What is the reason you disturb the Duke? DICK [within]. We have no reason for it; therefore a fig for him! SERVANT. Why, saucy varlets, dare you be so bold? HORSE-COURSER [within]. I hope, sir, we have wit enough to be more bold than welcome. SERVANT. It appears so: pray, be bold elsewhere, and trouble not the Duke. DUKE. What would they have? SERVANT. They all cry out to speak with Doctor Faustus. CARTER [within]. Ay, and we will speak with him. DUKE. Will you, sir?--Commit the rascals. DICK [within]. Commit with us! he were as good commit with his father as commit with us. FAUSTUS. I do beseech your grace, let them come in; They are good subject for [216] a merriment. DUKE. Do as thou wilt, Faustus; I give thee leave. FAUSTUS. I thank your grace. Enter ROBIN, DICK, CARTER, and HORSE-COURSER. Why, how now, my good friends! Faith, you are too outrageous: but, come near; I have procur'd your pardons: [217] welcome, all. ROBIN. Nay, sir, we will be welcome for our money, and we will pay for what we take.--What, ho! give's half a dozen of beer here, and be hanged! FAUSTUS. Nay, hark you; can you tell me [218] where you are? CARTER. Ay, marry, can I; we are under heaven. SERVANT. Ay; but, Sir Saucebox, know you in what place? HORSE-COURSER. Ay, ay, the house is good enough to drink in. --Zouns, fill us some beer, or we'll break all the barrels in the house, and dash out all your brains with your bottles! FAUSTUS. Be not so furious: come, you shall have beer.-- My lord, beseech you give me leave a while; I'll gage my credit 'twill content your grace. DUKE. With all my heart, kind doctor; please thyself; Our servants and our court's at thy command. FAUSTUS. I humbly thank your grace.--Then fetch some beer. HORSE-COURSER. Ay, marry, there spake [219] a doctor, indeed! and, faith, I'll drink a health to thy wooden leg for that word. FAUSTUS. My wooden leg! what dost thou mean by that? CARTER. Ha, ha, ha!--Dost hear him, [220] Dick? he has forgot his leg. HORSE-COURSER. Ay, ay, he does not stand much upon that. FAUSTUS. No, faith; not much upon a wooden leg. CARTER. Good Lord, that flesh and blood should be so frail with your worship! Do not you remember a horse-courser you sold a horse to? FAUSTUS. Yes, I remember I sold one a horse. CARTER. And do you remember you bid he should not ride him [221] into the water? FAUSTUS. Yes, I do very well remember that. CARTER. And do you remember nothing of your leg? FAUSTUS. No, in good sooth. CARTER. Then, I pray you, [222] remember your courtesy. FAUSTUS. I [223] thank you, sir. CARTER. 'Tis not so much worth. I pray you, tell me one thing. FAUSTUS. What's that? CARTER. Be both your legs bed-fellows every night together? FAUSTUS. Wouldst thou make a Colossus of me, that thou askest me such questions? CARTER. No, truly, sir; I would make nothing of you; but I would fain know that. Enter HOSTESS with drink. FAUSTUS. Then, I assure thee certainly, they are. CARTER. I thank you; I am fully satisfied. FAUSTUS. But wherefore dost thou ask? CARTER. For nothing, sir: but methinks you should have a wooden bed-fellow of one of 'em. HORSE-COURSER. Why, do you hear, sir? did not I [224] pull off one of your legs when you were asleep? FAUSTUS. But I have it again, now I am awake: look you here, sir. ALL. O, horrible! had the doctor three legs? CARTER. Do you remember, sir, how you cozened me, and eat up my load of---- [FAUSTUS, in the middle of each speech, charms them dumb.] DICK. Do you remember how you made me wear an ape's---- HORSE-COURSER. You whoreson conjuring scab, do you remember how you cozened me with a ho---- ROBIN. Ha' [225] you forgotten me? you think to carry it away with your hey-pass and re-pass: do you remember the dog's fa---- [Exeunt CLOWNS.] HOSTESS. Who pays for the ale? hear you, Master Doctor; now you have sent away my guess, [226] I pray who shall pay me for my a---- [Exit HOSTESS.] DUCHESS. My lord, We are much beholding [227] to this learned man. DUKE. So are we, madam; which we will recompense With all the love and kindness that we may: His artful sport [228] drives all sad thoughts away. [Exeunt.] Thunder and lightning. Enter DEVILS with covered dishes; MEPHISTOPHILIS leads them into FAUSTUS'S study; then enter WAGNER. WAGNER. I think my master [229] means to die shortly; he has made his will, and given me his wealth, his house, his goods, [230] and store of golden plate, besides two thousand ducats ready-coined. I wonder what he means: if death were nigh, he would not frolic thus. He's now at supper with the scholars, where there's such belly-cheer as Wagner in his life ne'er [231] saw the like: and, see where they come! belike the feast is ended. [232] [Exit.] Enter FAUSTUS, MEPHISTOPHILIS, and two or three SCHOLARS. FIRST SCHOLAR. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifulest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us so much favour as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you. FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, For that I know your friendship is unfeign'd, It is not Faustus' custom to deny The just request of those that wish him well: You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, No otherwise for pomp or majesty Than when Sir Paris cross'd the seas with her, And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. Be silent, then, for danger is in words. Music sounds. MEPHISTOPHILIS brings in HELEN; she passeth over the stage. SECOND SCHOLAR. Was this fair Helen, whose admired worth Made Greece with ten years' war [233] afflict poor Troy? THIRD SCHOLAR. Too simple is my wit [234] to tell her worth, Whom all the world admires for majesty. FIRST SCHOLAR. Now we have seen the pride of Nature's work, We'll take our leaves: and, for this blessed sight, Happy and blest be Faustus evermore! FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, farewell: the same wish I to you. [Exeunt SCHOLARS.] Enter an OLD MAN. OLD MAN. O gentle Faustus, leave this damned art, This magic, that will charm thy soul to hell, And quite bereave thee of salvation! Though thou hast now offended like a man, Do not persever in it like a devil: Yet, yet thou hast an amiable soul, If sin by custom grow not into nature; Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; Then thou art banish'd from the sight of heaven: No mortal can express the pains of hell. It may be, this my exhortation Seems harsh and all unpleasant: let it not; For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath, Or envy of thee, [235] but in tender love, And pity of thy future misery; And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, Checking thy body, may amend thy soul. FAUSTUS. Where art thou, Faustus? wretch, what hast thou done? Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice Says, "Faustus, come; thine hour is almost come;" And Faustus now will come to do thee right. [MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger.] OLD MAN. O, stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! I see an angel hover o'er thy head, And, with a vial full of precious grace, Offers to pour the same into thy soul: Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. FAUSTUS. O friend, I feel Thy words to comfort my distressed soul! Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. OLD MAN. Faustus, I leave thee; but with grief of heart, Fearing the enemy of thy hapless soul. [Exit.] FAUSTUS. Accursed Faustus, wretch, what hast thou done? I do repent; and yet I do despair: Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast: What shall I do to shun the snares of death? MEPHIST. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul For disobedience to my sovereign lord: Revolt, or I'll in piece-meal tear thy flesh. FAUSTUS. I do repent I e'er offended him. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord To pardon my unjust presumption, And with my blood again I will confirm The former vow I made to Lucifer. MEPHIST. [236] Do it, then, Faustus, with unfeigned heart, Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift. FAUSTUS. Torment, sweet friend, that base and aged man, That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, With greatest torments [237] that our hell affords. MEPHIST. His faith is great; I cannot touch his soul; But what I may afflict [238] his body with I will attempt, which is but little worth. FAUSTUS. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, To glut the longing of my heart's desire,-- That I may have unto my paramour That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clean [239] Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, And keep my oath [240] I made to Lucifer. MEPHIST. This, or what else my Faustus shall desire, Shall be perform'd in twinkling of an eye. Re-enter HELEN, passing over the stage between two CUPIDS. FAUSTUS. Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?-- Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.-- [Kisses her.] Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!-- Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. I will be Paris, and for love of thee, Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack'd; And I will combat with weak Menelaus, And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, And then return to Helen for a kiss. O, thou art fairer than the evening [241] air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter When he appear'd to hapless Semele; More lovely than the monarch of the sky In wanton Arethusa's azur'd [242] arms; And none but thou shalt [243] be my paramour! [Exeunt.] Thunder. Enter LUCIFER, BELZEBUB, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. LUCIFER. Thus from infernal Dis do we ascend To view the subjects of our monarchy, Those souls which sin seals the black sons of hell; 'Mong which, as chief, Faustus, we come to thee, Bringing with us lasting damnation To wait upon thy soul: the time is come Which makes it forfeit. MEPHIST. And, this gloomy night, Here, in this room, will wretched Faustus be. BELZEBUB. And here we'll stay, To mark him how he doth demean himself. MEPHIST. How should he but in desperate lunacy? Fond worldling, now his heart-blood dries with grief; His conscience kills it; and his [244] labouring brain Begets a world of idle fantasies To over-reach the devil; but all in vain; His store of pleasures must be sauc'd with pain. He and his servant Wagner are at hand; Both come from drawing Faustus' latest will. See, where they come! Enter FAUSTUS and WAGNER. FAUSTUS. Say, Wagner,--thou hast perus'd my will,-- How dost thou like it? WAGNER. Sir, So wondrous well, As in all humble duty I do yield My life and lasting service for your love. FAUSTUS. Gramercy, [245] Wagner. Enter SCHOLARS. Welcome, Gentlemen. [Exit WAGNER.] FIRST SCHOLAR. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your looks are chang'd. FAUSTUS. O, gentlemen! SECOND SCHOLAR. What ails Faustus? FAUSTUS. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee, then had I lived still! but now must die eternally. Look, sirs, comes he not? comes he not? FIRST SCHOLAR. O my dear Faustus, what imports this fear? SECOND SCHOLAR. Is all our pleasure turn'd to melancholy? THIRD SCHOLAR. He is not well with being over-solitary. SECOND SCHOLAR. If it be so, we'll have physicians, And Faustus shall be cur'd. THIRD SCHOLAR. 'Tis but a surfeit, sir; [246] fear nothing. FAUSTUS. A surfeit of deadly [247] sin, that hath damned both body and soul. SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet, Faustus, look up to heaven, and remember mercy is infinite. FAUSTUS. But Faustus' offence can ne'er be pardoned: the serpent that tempted Eve may be saved, but not Faustus. O gentlemen, hear me [248] with patience, and tremble not at my speeches! Though my heart pant and quiver to remember that I have been a student here these thirty years, O, would I had never [249] seen Wittenberg, never read book! and what wonders I have done, all Germany can witness, yea, all the world; for which Faustus hath lost both Germany and the world, yea, heaven itself, heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the blessed, the kingdom of joy; and must remain in hell for ever, hell. O, hell, for ever! Sweet friends, what shall become of Faustus, being in hell for ever? SECOND SCHOLAR. Yet, Faustus, call on God. FAUSTUS. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured! on God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed! O my God, I would weep! but the devil draws in my tears. Gush forth blood, instead of tears! yea, life and soul! O, he stays my tongue! I would lift up my hands; but see, they hold 'em, they hold 'em? ('?' sic) ALL. Who, Faustus? FAUSTUS. Why, Lucifer and Mephistophilis. O gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning! ALL. O, God forbid! FAUSTUS. God forbade it, indeed; but Faustus hath done it: for the vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood: the date is expired; this is the time, and he will fetch me. FIRST SCHOLAR. Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee? FAUSTUS. Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces, if I named God, to fetch me body and soul, if I once gave ear to divinity: and now 'tis [250] too late. Gentlemen, away, lest you perish with me. SECOND SCHOLAR. O, what may we do to save Faustus? FAUSTUS. Talk not of me, but save yourselves, and depart. THIRD SCHOLAR. God will strengthen me; I will stay with Faustus. FIRST SCHOLAR. Tempt not God, sweet friend; but let us into the next room, and pray for him. FAUSTUS. Ay, pray for me, pray for me; and what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me. SECOND SCHOLAR. Pray thou, and we will pray that God may have mercy upon thee. FAUSTUS. Gentlemen, farewell: if I live till morning, I'll visit you; if not, Faustus is gone to hell. ALL. Faustus, farewell. [Exeunt SCHOLARS.] MEPHIST. Ay, Faustus, now thou hast no hope of heaven; Therefore despair; think only upon hell, For that must be thy mansion, there to dwell. FAUSTUS. O thou bewitching fiend, 'twas thy temptation Hath robb'd me of eternal happiness! MEPHIST. I do confess it, Faustus, and rejoice: 'Twas I that, when thou wert i'the way to heaven, Damm'd up thy passage; when thou took'st the book To view the Scriptures, then I turn'd the leaves, And led thine eye. [251] What, weep'st thou? 'tis too late; despair! Farewell: Fools that will laugh on earth must weep in hell. [Exit.] [252] Enter GOOD ANGEL and EVIL ANGEL at several doors. GOOD ANGEL. O Faustus, if thou hadst given ear to me, Innumerable joys had follow'd thee! But thou didst love the world. EVIL ANGEL. Gave ear to me, And now must taste hell-pains [253] perpetually. GOOD ANGEL. O, what will all thy riches, pleasures, pomps, Avail thee now? EVIL ANGEL. Nothing, but vex thee more, To want in hell, that had on earth such store. GOOD ANGEL. O, thou hast lost celestial happiness, Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end Hadst thou affected sweet divinity, Hell or the devil had had no power on thee: Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold, [Music, while a throne descends.] In what resplendent glory thou hadst sit [254] In yonder throne, like those bright-shining saints, And triumph'd over hell! That hast thou lost; And now, poor soul, must thy good angel leave thee: The jaws of hell are open [255] to receive thee. [Exit. The throne ascends.] EVIL ANGEL. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with horror stare [Hell is discovered.] Into that vast perpetual torture-house: There are the Furies tossing damned souls On burning forks; there bodies boil [256] in lead; There are live quarters broiling on the coals, That ne'er can die; this ever-burning chair Is for o'er-tortur'd souls to rest them in; These that are fed with sops of flaming fire, Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates, And laugh'd to see the poor starve at their gates: But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be. FAUSTUS. O, I have seen enough to torture me! EVIL ANGEL. Nay, thou must feel them, taste the smart of all: He that loves pleasure must for pleasure fall: And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon; Then wilt thou tumble in confusion. [Exit. Hell disappears.--The clock strikes eleven.] FAUSTUS. O Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live, And then thou must be damn'd perpetually! Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente, lente currite, noctis equi! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'd. O, I'll leap up to heaven!--Who pulls me down?-- See, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament! [257] One drop of blood will save me: O my Christ!-- Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ; Yet will I call on him: O, spare me, Lucifer!-- Where is it now? 'tis gone: And, see, a threatening arm, an [258] angry brow! Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of heaven! No! Then will I headlong run into the earth: Gape, earth! O, no, it will not harbour me! You stars that reign'd at my nativity, Whose influence hath [259] allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist, Into the entrails of yon [260] labouring cloud[s], That, when you [261] vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths; But let my soul mount and ascend to heaven! [The clock strikes the half-hour.] O, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon. O, if [262] my soul must suffer for my sin, Impose some end to my incessant pain; Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, A hundred thousand, and at last [263] be sav'd! No end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or why is this immortal that thou hast? O, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd Into some brutish beast! all beasts are happy, For, when they die, Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements; But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. Curs'd be the parents that engender'd me! No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heaven. [The clock strikes twelve.] It strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell! O soul, be chang'd into small water-drops, And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found! Thunder. Enter DEVILS. O, mercy, heaven! look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while! Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer! I'll burn my books!--O Mephistophilis! [Exeunt DEVILS with FAUSTUS.] Enter SCHOLARS. [264] FIRST SCHOLAR. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, For such a dreadful night was never seen; Since first the world's creation did begin, Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard: Pray heaven the doctor have escap'd the danger. SECOND SCHOLAR. O, help us, heaven! [265] see, here are Faustus' limbs, All torn asunder by the hand of death! THIRD SCHOLAR. The devils whom Faustus serv'd have [266] torn him thus; For, twixt the hours of twelve and one, methought, I heard him shriek and call aloud for help; At which self [267] time the house seem'd all on fire With dreadful horror of these damned fiends. SECOND SCHOLAR. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' end be such As every Christian heart laments to think on, Yet, for he was a scholar once admir'd For wondrous knowledge in our German schools, We'll give his mangled limbs due burial; And all the students, cloth'd in mourning black, Shall wait upon his heavy funeral. [Exeunt.] Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall, Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise, Only to wonder at unlawful things, Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits To practise more than heavenly power permits. [Exit.] Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: Carthagens: So 4tos 1616, 1624, (and compare 4to 1604, p. 79).--2to 1631 "Carthagen." p. 79. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians;" ] [Footnote 2: her: Old eds. "his."] [Footnote 3: of: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "and."] [Footnote 4: upon: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "on the."] [Footnote 5: thousand: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "diuers."] [Footnote 6: them: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "men."] [Footnote 7: legatur: Old eds. "legatus."] [Footnote 8: petty: I may notice that 4to 1604 has "pretty," which is perhaps the right reading.] [Footnote 9: &c.: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 10: circles, scenes, letters, and characters: So 4to 1604 (see note ��, p. 80).--The later 4tos "circles, letters, characters." Note ��, from p. 80. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "scenes: "And sooner may a gulling weather-spie By drawing forth heavens SCEANES tell certainly," &c. Donne's FIRST SATYRE,--p. 327, ed. 1633." ] [Footnote 11: gain: So 4tos 1624, 1631 (and so 4to 1604).--2to 1616 "get."] [Footnote 12: these: See note §, p. 80. Note §, from p. 80. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "these elements: So again, "Within the bowels of THESE elements," &c., on p. 87, first col,--"THESE" being equivalent to THE. (Not unfrequently in our old writers THESE is little more than redundant.)" ] [Footnote 13: enterprise: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "enterprises."] [Footnote 14: make swift Rhine circle fair: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "WITH swift Rhine circle ALL."] [Footnote 15: silk: Old eds. "skill."] [Footnote 16: blest: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "wise."] [Footnote 17: Swarm: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "Sworne."] [Footnote 18: to: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 19: have: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "has."] [Footnote 20: shall they: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "they shall."] [Footnote 21: huge: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "whole."] [Footnote 22: stuffs: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "stuff'd."] [Footnote 23: renowm'd: So 4to 1616 (See note ||, p. 11).--2tos 1624, 1631, "renown'd." Note ||, from p. 11. (The First Part of Tamburlaine the Great): "renowmed: i.e. renowned.--So the 8vo.--The 4to "renowned." --The form "RENOWMED" (Fr. RENOMME) occurs repeatedly afterwards in this play, according to the 8vo. It is occasionally found in writers posterior to Marlowe's time. e.g. "Of Constantines great towne RENOUM'D in vaine." Verses to King James, prefixed to Lord Stirling's MONARCHICKE TRAGEDIES, ed. 1607." ] [Footnote 24: Albertus': Old eds. "Albanus."] [Footnote 25: that: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "the."] [Footnote 26: him: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 27: Enter Faustus: Old eds. "Thunder. Enter Lucifer and 4 deuils, Faustus to them with this speech,"--wrongly.] [Footnote 28: her: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "his."] [Footnote 29: erring: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "euening."] [Footnote 30: Mephistophilis Dragon, quod tumeraris: See note *, p. 83. Note *, from p. 83. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris: The later 4tos have "surgat Mephistophilis DRAGON, quod tumeraris."--There is a corruption here, which seems to defy emendation. For "quod TUMERARIS," Mr. J. Crossley, of Manchester, would read (rejecting the word "Dragon") "quod TU MANDARES" (the construction being "quod tu mandares ut Mephistophilis appareat et surgat"): but the "tu" does not agree with the preceding "vos."--The Revd. J. Mitford proposes "surgat Mephistophilis, per Dragon (or Dagon) quod NUMEN EST AERIS."" ] [Footnote 31: dicatus: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "dicatis."] [Footnote 32: came hither: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "came NOW hether."] [Footnote 33: speeches: So 4to 1604.--Not in the later 4tos.] [Footnote 34: accidens: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "accident."] [Footnote 35: fell: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "liue."] [Footnote 36: strike: So 4to 1631.--2tos 1616, 1624, "strikes."] [Footnote 37: thorough: So 4to 1631.--2tos 1616, 1624, "through."] [Footnote 38: Sirrah: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 39: save: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "spare."] [Footnote 40: again: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 41: or: Old eds. "for."] [Footnote 42: vestigiis nostris: Old eds. "vestigias nostras."] [Footnote 43: backward: So 4to 1616 (and so 4to 1604).--2tos 1624, 1631, "backe."] [Footnote 44: Why: So 4to 1616 (and so 4to 1604).--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 45: that famous: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "that MOST famous."] [Footnote 46: of: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "be."] [Footnote 47: men: So 4tos 1624, 1631 (and so 4to 1604).--2to 1616 "them."] [Footnote 48: Mephistophile: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "Mephostophilis."] [Footnote 49: thee: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "him."] [Footnote 50: thine: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "thy."] [Footnote 51: And: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 52: my: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "thy."] [Footnote 53: Is it: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "It is."] [Footnote 54: soul: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 55: an: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 56: should: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "shall."] [Footnote 57: God: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "heauen."] [Footnote 58: this scroll: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 59: he desires: Not in the 4tos. See note �, p. 86. Note �, from p. 86. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "he desires: Not in any of the four 4tos. In the tract just cited, i.e. THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, ed. 1648. the "3d Article" stands thus,--"That Mephostophiles should bring him any thing, and doe for him whatsoever." Sig. A 4, ed. 1648. A later ed. adds "he desired." Marlowe, no doubt, followed some edition of the HISTORY in which these words, or something equivalent to them, had been omitted by mistake. (2to 1661, which I consider as of no authority, has "he requireth.")" ] [Footnote 60: and: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 61: with: So 4to 1604.--Not in the later 4tos.] [Footnote 62: the: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "that."] [Footnote 63: are: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "is."] [Footnote 64: hell's a fable: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "hell's a MEERE fable."] [Footnote 65: thine: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thy."] [Footnote 66: thy: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "thine."] [Footnote 67: was: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "were."] [Footnote 68: harness: i.e. armour.] [Footnote 69: This will I keep as chary as my life. [Exeunt.: Enter FAUSTUS, in his study, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. When I behold the heavens, &c.: Old eds. (that is, 4tos 1616, 1624, 1631) thus; "This will I keepe, as chary as my life. [Exeunt.: Enter WAGNER solus. WAGNER. Learned Faustus To know the secrets of Astronomy Grauen in the booke of Joues high firmament, Did mount himselfe to scale Olympus top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawne by the strength of yoaky [2to 1624 "yoaked": Dragons necks, He now is gone to proue Cosmography, And as I gesse will first arriue at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his Court; And take some part of holy Peters feast, That to [2tos 1624, 1631, "on": this day is highly solemnized. Exit WAGNER. Enter FAUSTUS in his Study, and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. When I behold the heauens," &c. The lines which I have here omitted belong to a subsequent part of the play, where they will be found with considerable additions, and are rightly assigned to the CHORUS. (As given in the present place by the 4tos 1616, 1624, 1631, these lines exhibit the text of the earlier FAUSTUS; see p. 90, sec. col.) It would seem that something was intended to intervene here between the exit of Faustus and Mephistophilis, and their re-appearance on the stage: compare, however, the preceding play, p. 88, first col. p. 90, sec. col. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "FAUSTUS. Great thanks, mighty Lucifer! This will I keep as chary as my life. LUCIFER. Farewell, Faustus, and think on the devil. FAUSTUS. Farewell, great Lucifer. [Exeunt LUCIFER and BELZEBUB.: Come, Mephistophilis. [Exeunt.: Enter CHORUS. CHORUS. Learned Faustus, To know the secrets of astronomy Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament, Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top, Being seated in a chariot burning bright, Drawn by the strength of yoky dragons' necks. He now is gone to prove cosmography, And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, To see the Pope and manner of his court, And take some part of holy Peter's feast, That to this day is highly solemniz'd. [Exit.: Enter FAUSTUS and MEPHISTOPHILIS. FAUSTUS. Having now, my good Mephistophilis, Pass'd with delight the stately town of Trier," etc. p. 88, first col. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): This part of the play does not have any relevance to characters leaving the stage and re-entering. Perhaps the editor meant p. 93, first column. p. 93, first col. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "RALPH. O, brave, Robin! shall I have Nan Spit, and to mine own use? On that condition I'll feed thy devil with horse- bread as long as he lives, of free cost. ROBIN. No more, sweet Ralph: let's go and make clean our boots, which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the devil's name. [Exeunt.: Enter ROBIN and RALPH with a silver goblet. ROBIN. Come, Ralph: did not I tell thee, we were for ever made by this Doctor Faustus' book? ecce, signum! here's a simple purchase for horse-keepers: our horses shall eat no hay as long as this lasts. RALPH. But, Robin, here comes the Vintner." ] [Footnote 70: thine: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thy."] [Footnote 71: is: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 72: breathes: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "breathe."] [Footnote 73: ears: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "eare."] [Footnote 74: this I: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "this TIME I."] [Footnote 75: termine: I may notice that 4to 1604 (see p. 88, sec. col.) has "terminine," which at least is better for the metre. p. 88, second column, (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Whose terminine is term'd the world's wide pole;" ] [Footnote 76: erring: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "euening."] [Footnote 77: motion: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "motions."] [Footnote 78: Ay: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 79: and: So 4to 1631.--Not in 4tos 1616, 1624.] [Footnote 80: the: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 81: lips: So 4to 1604.--Not in the later 4tos.] [Footnote 82: and ever since have run: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "and HAUE EUER SINCE run."] [Footnote 83: this: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "these."] [Footnote 84: come: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "came."] [Footnote 85: I: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "I I."] [Footnote 86: L: Old eds. "Lechery." See note �, p. 90. Note �, from p. 90. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "L.: All the 4tos "Lechery."--Here I have made the alteration recommended by Mr. Collier in his Preface to COLERIDGE'S SEVEN LECTURES ON SHAKESPEARE AND MILTON, p. cviii." ] [Footnote 87: Tut: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "But."] [Footnote 88: Robin: Old eds. "the Clowne" (and so frequently afterwards): but he is evidently a distinct person from the "Clown," Wagner's attendant, who has previously appeared (see p. 111). Most probably the parts of the Clown and Robin were played by the same actor; and hence the confusion in the old eds. P. 111. (this play): "Enter WAGNER and CLOWN. WAGNER. Come hither, sirrah boy." etc. ] [Footnote 89: faith: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631 "i'faith." (And so afterwards in this scene.)] [Footnote 90: not tell: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 91: as fair a: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "a faire."] [Footnote 92: need'st: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "needs."] [Footnote 93: hold, belly, hold: Compare Florio's DICT., 1611; "IOSA, GOOD STORE, hold-bellie-hold."] [Footnote 94: Prithee: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "I prithee."] [Footnote 95: him: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--Not in 4to 1631.] [Footnote 96: He views: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "To view."] [Footnote 97: with this: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "with HIS." This passage is sufficiently obscure.] [Footnote 98: round: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 99: Rhine: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "Rhines."] [Footnote 100: up to: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "vnto."] [Footnote 101: Quarter the town in four equivalents: So 4to 1604.--Not in the later 4tos.] [Footnote 102: Thorough: so 4to 1631.--2tos 1616, 1624, "Through."] [Footnote 103: rest: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "East."] [Footnote 104: me: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 105: us: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "you."] [Footnote 106: through: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thorow."] [Footnote 107: Ponte: Old eds. "Ponto."] [Footnote 108: match: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "watch."] [Footnote 109: the: so 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "those."] [Footnote 110: in state and: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "this day with."] [Footnote 111: whilst: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "while."] [Footnote 112: thorough: So 4to 1631.--2tos 1616, 1624, "through."] [Footnote 113: my: Qy. "one"?] [Footnote 114: cunning: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "comming." (And so in the fourth line of the next speech.)] [Footnote 115: this: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "his."] [Footnote 116: at: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "to."] [Footnote 117: it: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 118: And smite with death thy hated enterprise: So 4to 1616. --Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 119: our: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 120: this: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 121: have right: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "haue SOME right."] [Footnote 122: shall: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "shalt."] [Footnote 123: hath: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "haue."] [Footnote 124: synod: Qy. "HOLY synod"?] [Footnote 125: Ponte: Old eds. "Ponto."] [Footnote 126: his: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "this."] [Footnote 127: Sennet: Old eds. "Senit" and "Sonet". See note ||, p. 91. Note ||, from p. 91. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Sonnet: Variously written, SENNET, SIGNET, SIGNATE, &c.--A particular set of notes on the trumpet, or cornet, different from a flourish. See Nares's GLOSS. in V. SENNET." ] [Footnote 128: be: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "are."] [Footnote 129: them to: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "them FORTH to."] [Footnote 130: Archbishop.: Old eds. "Bish." and "Bishop" (and so afterwards).] [Footnote 131: you: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 132: beholding: So 4to 1616 (see note �, p. 98).--2tos 1624, 1631, "beholden." Note �, from p. 98. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "beholding: i.e. beholden." ] [Footnote 133: such: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "this."] [Footnote 134: it: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 135: his: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "this."] [Footnote 136: struck: Here the old eds. have "stroke" and "strooke:" but in the next clause they all agree in having "strucke."] [Footnote 137: on: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 138: same: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--Not in 4to 1631.] [Footnote 139: at the hard heels: The modern editors, ignorant of the old phraseology, thought that they corrected this passage in printing "hard at the heels."] [Footnote 140: Vintner: So all the old eds.; and presently Robin addresses this person as "vintner:" yet Dick has just spoken of him as "the Vintner's boy." See note ||, p. 93. Note ||, from p. 93. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Drawer: There is an inconsistency here: the Vintner cannot properly be addressed as "Drawer." The later 4tos are also inconsistent in the corresponding passage: Dick says, "THE VINTNER'S BOY follows us at the hard heels," and immediately the "VINTNER" enters." ] [Footnote 141: your: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 142: much: Equivalent to--by no means, not at all. This ironical exclamation is very common in our old dramatists. (Mr. Hunter, --NEW ILLUST. OF SHAKESPEARE, ii. 56,--explains it very differently.)] [Footnote 143: By lady: i.e. By our Lady.] [Footnote 144: to: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--Not in 4to 1631.] [Footnote 145: tester: i.e. sixpence.] [Footnote 146: the state: i.e. the raised chair or throne, with a canopy.] [Footnote 147: perfect: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "warlike."] [Footnote 148: rouse: i.e. bumper.] [Footnote 149: a: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "ten."] [Footnote 150: a: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "the."] [Footnote 151: renowm'd: Old eds. "renown'd"; but earlier, p. 109, first col., 4to 1616 has "renowm'd": see note 23 and see note ||, p. 11. Note ||, from p. 11. (The First Part of Tamburlaine the Great): "renowmed: i.e. renowned.--So the 8vo.--The 4to "renowned." --The form "RENOWMED" (Fr. RENOMME) occurs repeatedly afterwards in this play, according to the 8vo. It is occasionally found in writers posterior to Marlowe's time. e.g. "Of Constantines great towne RENOUM'D in vaine." Verses to King James, prefixed to Lord Stirling's MONARCHICKE TRAGEDIES, ed. 1607." ] [Footnote 152: through: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thorow."] [Footnote 153: These: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "Those."] [Footnote 154: through: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thorow."] [Footnote 155: a: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 156: this: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 157: demand: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "demands."] [Footnote 158: door: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 159: state: See note §, p. 122. i.e. note 146--So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "seat."] [Footnote 160: These: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "They."] [Footnote 161: renowmed: Old eds. "renowned." See note �, p. 123. i.e. note 151 ] [Footnote 162: thoughts: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "thought."] [Footnote 163: whilst: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "while."] [Footnote 164: I gain'd: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "I HAD gain'd."] [Footnote 165: at window: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "at THE window."] [Footnote 166: is: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 167: this is: So 4to 1624 (and rightly, as the next line proves).--2tos 1616, 1631, "is this."] [Footnote 168: As: So 4to 1616.--2to 1624 "That."--2to 1631 "And."] [Footnote 169: Belimoth....Asteroth: Old eds. here "Belimote (and "Belimot") ....Asterote": but see p. 126, first col. P. 126. (this play): "But wherefore do I dally my revenge?-- Asteroth, Belimoth, Mephistophilis?" ] [Footnote 170: has: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "hath."] [Footnote 171: horns: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "horne."] [Footnote 172: sir: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 173: of: i.e. on.] [Footnote 174: sway: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "stay."] [Footnote 175: this attempt against the conjurer: See note, * p. 95. Note *, from p. 95. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Mephistophilis, transform him straight: According to THE HISTORY OF DR. FAUSTUS, the knight was not present during Faustus's "conference" with the Emperor; nor did he offer the doctor any insult by doubting his skill in magic. We are there told that Faustus happening to see the knight asleep, "leaning out of a window of the great hall," fixed a huge pair of hart's horns on his head; "and, as the knight awaked, thinking to pull in his head, he hit his hornes against the glasse, that the panes thereof flew about his eares: thinke here how this good gentleman was vexed, for he could neither get backward nor forward." After the emperor and the courtiers, to their great amusement, had beheld the poor knight in this condition, Faustus removed the horns. When Faustus, having taken leave of the emperor, was a league and a half from the city, he was attacked in a wood by the knight and some of his companions: they were in armour, and mounted on fair palfreys; but the doctor quickly overcame them by turning all the bushes into horsemen, and "so charmed them, that every one, knight and other, for the space of a whole moneth, did weare a paire of goates hornes on their browes, and every palfry a paire of oxe hornes on his head; and this was their penance appointed by Faustus." A second attempt of the knight to revenge himself on Faustus proved equally unsuccessful. Sigs. G 2, I 3, ed. 1648." ] [Footnote 176: that: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 177: my: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "thy."] [Footnote 178: that: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 179: an: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 180: boldly: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "brauely."] [Footnote 181: heart's: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "heart."] [Footnote 182: that: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 183: the: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "that."] [Footnote 184: now: so 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 185: art: Old eds. "heart" (which, after all, may be right).] [Footnote 186: there: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "here."] [Footnote 187: his: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 3to sic 1616.] [Footnote 188: pull: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "put."] [Footnote 189: all: Old eds. "call."] [Footnote 190: through: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "thorow."] [Footnote 191: Amongst: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "Among."] [Footnote 192: Enter the ambushed Soldiers: Here (though it seems that Faustus does not quit the stage) a change of scene is supposed.] [Footnote 193: these: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "the."] [Footnote 194: the door: i.e. the stage-door,--the writer here addressing himself to THE ACTOR only, for the scene lies in a wood.] [Footnote 195: Zounds: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616, "Zons."] [Footnote 196: all are: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "are all."] [Footnote 197: these: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "this."] [Footnote 198: escape: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "scape."] [Footnote 199: has: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "hath."] [Footnote 200: you: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 201: guess: A corruption of guests (very frequent in our early dramatists) which occurs again at p. 130. first col. So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "guests." See note 226. ] [Footnote 202: thou: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 203: now: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 204: sir: Qy. "sirs"? but see the next speech of the Carter, and the next speech but one of the Horse-courser, who, in his narrative, uses both "sirs" and "sir."] [Footnote 205: As I was going to Wittenberg, t'other day, &c.: See THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Chap. xxxv,--"How Doctor Faustus eat a load of hay."--The Carter does not appear in the earlier play.] [Footnote 206: my: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 207: cursen: i.e. christened.] [Footnote 208: some quality: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "some RARE quality."] [Footnote 209: rid: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "ride."] [Footnote 210: that enchanted castle in the air: This is not mentioned in the earlier play: but see THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, Chap xl, --"How Doctor Faustus through his charmes made a great Castle in presence of the Duke of Anholt."] [Footnote 211: delighted: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "delighteth."] [Footnote 212: it pleaseth: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "it HATH PLEASED."] [Footnote 213: come: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "came."] [Footnote 214: these ripe grapes: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "these grapes."] [Footnote 215: The Clowns bounce, &c: 2to 1616 "The CLOWNE bounce." 2tos 1624, 1631, "The CLOWNE BOUNCETH." (In the next stage-direction all the 4tos have "THEY knock again," &c.)] [Footnote 216: for: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "to."] [Footnote 217: pardons: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "pardon."] [Footnote 218: me: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 219: spake: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "spoke."] [Footnote 220: Dost hear him: So 4to 1616.--2to 1624 "dost THOU heare ME." 2to 1631 "dost THOU heare him."] [Footnote 221: him: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 222: you: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616 (but compare the Carter's next speech).] [Footnote 223: I: So 4to 1616.--Not in 4tos 1624, 1631.] [Footnote 224: not I: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "I not."] [Footnote 225: Ha': So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "Haue."] [Footnote 226: guess: See note §, p. 127. i.e. note 201 So 4to 1616. --2tos 1624, 1631, "guests."] [Footnote 227: beholding: So 4tos 1616, 1624, (see note �, p. 98).--2to 1631 "beholden." Note �, from p. 98. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "beholding: i.e. beholden." ] [Footnote 228: sport: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "sports." [Footnote 229: I think my master, &c.: The alterations which this speech has undergone will hardly admit of its arrangement as verse: compare the earlier play, p. 98, first col. p. 98, first col. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Enter WAGNER. WAGNER. I think my master means to die shortly, For he hath given to me all his goods: And yet, methinks, if that death were near, He would not banquet, and carouse, and swill Amongst the students, as even now he doth, Who are at supper with such belly-cheer As Wagner ne'er beheld in all his life. See, where they come! belike the feast is ended. [Exit.:" ] [Footnote 230: goods: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--2to 1624 "good."] [Footnote 231: ne'er: so 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "neuer."] [Footnote 232: ended: so 4tos 1624, 1631, (and so 4to 1604).--2to 1616 "done."] [Footnote 233: war: Old eds. "warres."] [Footnote 234: wit: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--2to 1631 "will."] [Footnote 235: Or envy of thee: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "Or OF enuie TO thee."] [Footnote 236: MEPHIST.: This and the next prefix are omitted in the old eds.] [Footnote 237: torments: So 4tos 1624, 1631 (and so 4to 1604).--2to 1616 "torment."] [Footnote 238: I may afflict: So 4to 1616.--2to 1624 "I afflict."--2to 1631 "I CAN afflict."] [Footnote 239: clean: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "clear."] [Footnote 240: oath: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "vow."] [Footnote 241: evening: So 4to 1604.--The later 4tos "euenings."] [Footnote 242: azur'd: So 4to 1624 (a reading which I prefer only because it is also that of 4to 1604.)--2tos 1616, 1631, "azure."] [Footnote 243: shalt: See note *, p. 100.] Note *, from p. 100. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "shalt: So all the 4tos; and so I believe Marlowe wrote, though the grammar requires "shall."" ] [Footnote 244: his: So 4tos 1616, 1631.--Not in 4to 1624.] [Footnote 245: Gramercy: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "Gramercies."] [Footnote 246: sir: So 4tos 1616, 1624.--Not in 4to 1631.] [Footnote 247: of deadly: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "of A deadly."] [Footnote 248: me: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 249: never: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "nere."] [Footnote 250: 'tis: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "IT is."] [Footnote 251: And led thine eye: A portion of this line has evidently dropt out.] [Footnote 252: Exit: It seems doubtful whether Lucifer and Belzebub should also make their exeunt here, or whether they remain to witness the catastrophe: see p. 132, first col. P. 132, first column. (this play): "MEPHIST. And, this gloomy night, Here, in this room, will wretched Faustus be. BELZEBUB. And here we'll stay, To mark him how he doth demean himself." etc. ] [Footnote 253: hell-pains: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "HELS paines."] [Footnote 254: sit: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "set."] [Footnote 255: are open: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "IS READIE."] [Footnote 256: boil: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--2to 1616 "BROYLE."] [Footnote 257: See, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament: So 4tos 1624, 1631.--Not in 4to 1616.] [Footnote 258: an: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "and."] [Footnote 259: hath: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "haue."] [Footnote 260: yon: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "your."] [Footnote 261: you, &c.: See note *, p. 101.] Note *, from p. 101. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "That, when you, &c.: So all the old eds.; and it is certain that awkward changes of person are sometimes found in passages of our early poets: but qy.,-- "That, when THEY vomit forth into the air, My limbs may issue from THEIR smoky mouths," &c.?" ] [Footnote 262: 0, if, &c.: 2to 1604, in the corresponding passage, has "Oh, GOD, if," &c. (see p. 101, sec. col.), and that reading seems necessary for the sense. P. 101, sec. col. (Doctor Faustus, from the quarto of 1604): "Ah, half the hour is past! 'twill all be past anon O God, If thou wilt not have mercy on my soul, Yet for Christ's sake, whose blood hath ransom'd me, Impose some end to my incessant pain;" etc. ] [Footnote 263: at last: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "at THE last."] [Footnote 264: Enter Scholars: Here, of course, a change of scene is supposed. (This is not in the earlier play.)] [Footnote 265: heaven: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "heauens."] [Footnote 266: devils.... have: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "DIUELL.... HATH."] [Footnote 267: self: So 4to 1616.--2tos 1624, 1631, "same."]