Yes! and bewailed his own mishap much more.
Margaret.
Alas for all the miseries of mankind!
He shall not want my oft-repeated prayer.
Mephistopheles.[toMargaret]
Thou, gentle heart, dost well deserve to find
A husband worthy of a bride so fair.
Margaret.
Ah no!—for that, it is too soon.
Mephistopheles.
A lover, then, might in the mean time do.
’Tis bounteous Heaven’s choicest boon
To fondle in one’s arms so sweet a thing as you.
Margaret.
Such things are never done with us.
Mephistopheles.
Done or not done!—it may be managed thus:—
Martha.
Now let me hear!
Mephistopheles.
By his death-bed I stood.
It was a little better than of dung,
Of mouldy straw; there, as a Christian should,
With many a sin repented on his tongue,
He died.—“Oh! how must I,” he said,
“Myself detest so to throw up my trade,
And my dear wife abandon so!
It kills me with the simple memory, oh!
Might she but now forgive me, ere I die!”
Martha.[weeping]
Good soul! I have forgiven him long ago.
Mephistopheles.[continuing his interrupted narrative]
And yet was she, God knows, much more to blame than I.
Martha.
What! did he lie? on the grave’s brink to lie!
Mephistopheles.
He fabled to the last, be sure,
If I am half a connoisseur.
“In sooth, I had no time to gape,” he said,
“First to get children, then to get them bread,
To clothe them, and to put them to a trade,
From toil and labour I had no release,
And could not even eat my own thin slice in peace.”
Martha.
Can it then be? has he forgotten quite
My fag and drudgery, by day and night?
Mephistopheles.
Not quite! attend the sequel of my tale.
“When last we sailed from Malta”—so he said,
“For wife and children fervently I prayed,
And Heaven then blew a favourable gale.
We came across a Turkish ship that bore
Home bullion to increase the Sultan’s store,
And soon, by valour’s right, were masters
Of all the Infidel piastres;
The precious spoil was shared among the crew,
And I received the part that was my due.”
Martha.
But where and how?—has he then buried it?
Mephistopheles.
Who knows where the four winds have hurried it!
A lady took him under her protection
At Naples, as he wandered to and fro;
She left him many a mark of her affection,
As to his life’s end he had cause to know.
Martha.
The knave, to treat his helpless orphans so!
To all our misery and all our need,
Amid his reckless life, he gave no heed!
Mephistopheles.
And for that cause he’s dead. If I were you,
Now mark me well, I tell you what I’d do;
I’d mourn him decently for one chaste year,
Then look about me for another dear.
Martha.
Alas! God knows it would be hard to find
Another so completely to my mind.
A better-hearted fool you never knew,
A love of roving was his only vice;
And foreign wine, and foreign women too,
And the accursèd gambling dice.
Mephistopheles.
Such marriage-articles were most convenient,
Had he to you been only half so lenient.
On terms like these myself had no objection
To change with you the ring of conjugal affection.
Martha.
You jest, mein Herr!
Mephistopheles.[aside]
A serious jest for me!
I’d better go; for, if I tarry here,
She’ll take the devil at his word, I fear.
[ToMargaret.] How stands it with your heart then?—is it free?
Margaret.
I scarce know what you mean.
Mephistopheles.
Sweet guileless heart!
Ladies, farewell!
Margaret.
Farewell!
Martha.
One word before we part!
I fain would have it solemnly averred,
How my dear husband died, and where he was interred.
Order was aye my special virtue; and
’Tis right both where and when he died should stand
In the newspapers.
Mephistopheles.
Yes, when two attest,
As Scripture saith, the truth is manifest.
I have a friend, who, at your requisition,
Before the judge will make a deposition.
I’ll bring him here.
Martha.
Yes, bring him with you, do!
Mephistopheles.
And we shall meet your fair young lady too?
[ToMargaret.] A gallant youth!—has been abroad, and seen
The world—a perfect cavalier, I trow.
Margaret.
’Twould make me blush, should he bestow
A single look on one so mean.
Mephistopheles.
You have no cause to be ashamed before
The proudest king that ever sceptre bore.
Martha.
This evening, in the garden then, behind
The house, you’ll find warm hearts and welcome kind!
A Street.
Faust.
How now? what news? how speed your labours?
Mephistopheles.
Bravo! ’tis well you are on fire;
Soon shall you have your heart’s desire.
This evening you shall meet her at her neighbour’s;
A dame ’tis to a nicety made
For the bawd and gipsy trade.
Faust.
’Tis well.
Mephistopheles.
But you must lend a hand, and so must I.
Faust.
One good turn deserves another.
Mephistopheles.
We must appear before a judge together,
And solemnly there testify
That stiff and stark her worthy spouse doth lie,
Beside the shrine of holy Antony.
Faust.
Most wise! we must first make a goodly travel!
Mephistopheles.
Sancta simplicitas!what stuff you drivel!
We may make oath, and not know much about it.
Faust.
If that’s your best, your best is bad. I scout it.
Mephistopheles.
O holy man that would outwit the devil!
Is it the first time in your life that you
Have sworn to what you knew could not be true?
Of God, the world, and all that it contains,
Of man, and all that circles in his veins,
Or dwells within the compass of his brains,
Have you not pompous definitions given,
With swelling breast and dogmatising brow,
As if you were an oracle from heaven?
And yet, if the plain truth you will avow,
You knew as much of all these things, in faith,
As now you know of Master Schwerdtlein’s death!
Faust.
Thou art, and wert, a sophist and a liar.
Mephistopheles.
Yes, unless one could mount a little higher.
To-morrow I shall hear you pour
False vows that silly girl before,
Swear to do everything to serve her,
And love her with a quenchless fervour.
Faust.
And from my heart too.
Mephistopheles.
Oh! of course, of course!
Then will you speak, till you are hoarse,
Of love, and constancy, and truth,
And feelings of eternal youth—
Will that too be the simple sooth?
Faust.
It will! it will!—for, when I feel,
And for the feeling, the confusion
Of feelings, that absorbs my mind,
Seek for names, and none can find,
Sweep through the universe’s girth
For every highest word to give it birth;
And then this soul-pervading flame,
Infinite, endless, endless name,
Call you this nought but devilish delusion?
Mephistopheles.
Still I am right!
Faust.
Hold! mark me, you
Are right indeed! for this is true,
Whowillbe right, and only has a tongue,
Is never wrong.
Come, I confess thee master in debating,
That I may be delivered from thy prating.
end of act third.
Martha’sGarden.
MargaretonFaust’sarm;MarthawithMephistopheles,walking up and down.
Margaret.
I feel it well, ’tis from pure condescension
You pay to one like me so much attention.
With travellers ’tis a thing of course,
To be contented with the best they find;
For sure a man of cultivated mind
Can have small pleasure in my poor discourse.
Faust.
One look from thee, one word, delights me more
Than all the world’s high-vaunted lore.
[He kisses her hand.
Margaret.
O trouble not yourself! how could you kiss it so?
It is so coarse, so rough! for I must go
Through all the work above stairs and below,
Mother will have it so.
[They pass on.
Martha.
And you, sir, will it still
Be your delight from place to place to roam?
Mephistopheles.
In this our duty guides us, not our will.
With what sad hearts from many a place we go,
Where we had almost learned to be at home!
Martha.
When one is young it seems a harmless gambol,
Thus round and round through the wide world to ramble:
But soon the evil day comes on,
And as a stiff old bachelor to die
Has never yet done good to any one.
Mephistopheles.
I see ahead, and fear such wretched fate.
Martha.
Then, sir, take warning ere it be too late!
[They pass on.
Margaret.
Yes, out of sight, and out of mind!
You see me now, and are so kind:
But you have friends at home of station high,
With far more wit and far more sense than I.
Faust.
Their sense, dear girl, is often nothing more
Than vain conceit of vain short-sighted lore.
Margaret.
How mean you that?
Faust.
Oh that the innocent heart
And sweet simplicity, unspoiled by art,
So seldom knows its own rare quality!
That fair humility, the comeliest grace
Which bounteous Nature sheds on blooming face——
Margaret.
Do thou bestow a moment’s thought on me,
I shall have time enough to think of thee.
Faust.
You are then much alone?
Margaret.
Our household is but small, I own,
And yet must be attended to.
We keep no maid; I have the whole to do,
Must wash and brush, and sew and knit,
And cook, and early run and late;
And then my mother is, in every whit,
So accurate!
Not that she needs to pinch her household; we
Might do much more than many others do:
My father left a goodly sum, quite free
From debt, with a neat house and garden too,
Close by the town, just as you pass the gate;
But we have lived retired enough of late.
My brother is a soldier: he
Is at the wars: my little sister’s dead:
Poor thing! it caused me many an hour of pain
To see it pine, and droop its little head,
But gladly would I suffer all again,
So much I loved the child!
Faust.
An angel, if like thee!
Margaret.
I nursed it, and it loved me heartily.
My father died before it saw the light,
My mother was despaired of quite,
So miserably weak she lay.
Yet she recovered slowly, day by day;
And as she had not strength herself
To suckle the poor helpless elf,
She gave’t in charge to me, and I
With milk and water nursed it carefully.
Thus in my arm, and on my lap, it grew,
And smiled and crowed, and flung its legs about,
And called me mother too.
Faust.
To thy pure heart the purest joy, no doubt.
Margaret.
Ay! but full many an hour
Heavy with sorrow, and with labour sour.
The infant’s cradle stood beside
My bed, and when it stirred or cried,
I must awake;
Sometimes to give it drink, sometimes to take
It with me to my bed, and fondle it:
And when all this its fretting might not stay,
I rose, and danced about, and dandled it;
And after that I must away
To wash the clothes by break of day.
I make the markets too, and keep house for my mother,
One weary day just like another;
Thus drudging on, the day might lack delights,
But food went lightly down, and sleep was sweet o’ nights.
[They pass on.
Martha.
A woman’s case is not much to be vaunted;
A hardened bachelor is hard to mend.
Mephistopheles.
A few apostles such as you were wanted,
From evil ways their vagrant steps to bend.
Martha.
Speak plainly, sir, have you found nothing yet?
Are you quite disentangled from the net?
Mephistopheles.
A house and hearth, we have been often told,
With a good wife, is worth its weight in gold.
Martha.
I mean, sir, have you never felt the want?
Mephistopheles.
A good reception I have always found.
Martha.
I mean to say, did your heart never pant?
Mephistopheles.
For ladies my respect is too profound
To jest on such a serious theme as this.
Martha.
My meaning still you strangely miss!
Mephistopheles.
Alas, that I should be so blind!
One thing I plainly see, that you are very kind!
[They pass on.
Faust.
You knew me, then, you little angel! straight,
When you beheld me at the garden-gate?
Margaret.
Marked you it not?—You saw my downward look.
Faust.
And you forgive the liberty I took,
When from the minster you came out that day,
And I, with forward boldness more than meet,
Then ventured to address you on the street?
Margaret.
I was surprised, I knew not what to say;
No one could speak an evil word of me.
Did he, perchance, in my comportment see
Aught careless or improper on that day,
That he should take me for a worthless girl,
Whom round his little finger he might twirl?
Not yet the favourable thoughts I knew,
That even then were risingherefor you;
One thing I know, myself I sharply chid,
That I could treat you then no harshlier than I did.
Faust.
Sweet love!
Margaret.
Let go!
[She plucks a star-flower, and pulls the petals off one after another.
Faust.
What’s that? a nosegay? let me see!
Margaret.
’Tis but a game.
Faust.
How so?
Margaret.
Go! you would laugh at me.
[She continues pulling the petals, and murmuring to herself.
Faust.
What are you murmuring now, so sweetly low?
Margaret.[half loud]
He loves me, yes!—he loves me, no!
Faust.
Thou sweet angelic face!
Margaret.[murmuring as before]
He loves me, yes!—he loves me, no!
[Pulling out the last petal with manifest delight.]
He loves me, yes!
Faust.
Yes, child! the fair flower-star hath answeredYes!
In this the judgment of the gods approves thee;
He loves thee! know’st thou what it means?—He loves thee!
[He seizes her by both hands.
Margaret.
I scarce can speak for joy!
Faust.
Fear thee not, love! But let this look proclaim,
This pressure of my hand declare
What words can never name:
To yield us to an ecstasy of joy,
And feel this tranceful bliss must be
Eternal! yes! its end would be despair!
It hath no end! no end for thee and me!
[Margaretpresses his hands, makes herself free, and runs away. He stands still for a moment thoughtfully, then follows her.
Martha.[coming up]
’Tis getting late.
Mephistopheles.
Yes, and we must away.
Martha.
I fain would have you stay;
But ’tis an evil neighbourhood,
Where idle gossips find their only good,
Their pleasure and their business too,
In spying out all that their neighbours do.
And thus, the whole town in a moment knows
The veriest trifle. But where is our young pair?
Mephistopheles.
Like wanton birds of summer, through the air
I saw them dart away.
Martha.
He seems well pleased with her.
Mephistopheles.
And she with him. ’Tis thus the world goes.
A Summer-house in the Garden.
[Margaretcomes springing in, and hides herself behind the door of the summer-house. She places the point of her finger on her lips, and looks through a rent.
Margaret.
He comes!
Faust.[coming up]
Ha! ha! thou cunning soul, and thou
Would’st trick me thus; but I have caught thee now!
[He kisses her.
Margaret.[clasping him and returning the kiss]
Thou best of men, with my whole heart I love thee!
[Mephistophelesheard knocking.
Faust.[stamping]
Who’s there?
Mephistopheles.
A friend!
Faust.
A beast!
Mephistopheles.
’Tis time now to remove thee.
Martha.[coming up]
Yes, sir, ’tis getting late.
Faust.
May I not take you home?
Margaret.
My mother would—farewell!
Faust.
And must I leave you then?
Farewell!
Martha.
Adieu!
Margaret.
Right soon to meet again!
[ExeuntFaustandMephistopheles.
Margaret.[alone]
Dear God! what such a man as this
Can think on all and every thing!
I stand ashamed, and simpleyes
Is the one answer I can bring.
I wonder what a man, so learned as he,
Can find in a poor simple girl like me. [Exit.
Wood and Cavern.
Faust.[alone]
Spirit Supreme! thou gav’st me—gav’st me all,
For which I asked thee. Not in vain hast thou
Turned toward me thy countenance in fire.
Thou gavest me wide Nature for my kingdom,
And power to feel it, to enjoy it. Not
Cold gaze of wonder gav’st thou me alone,
But even into her bosom’s depth to look,
As it might be the bosom of a friend.
The grand array of living things thou mad’st
To pass before me, mad’st me know my brothers
In silent bush, in water, and in air.
And when the straining storm loud roars, and raves
Through the dark forest, and the giant pine,
Root-wrenched, tears all the neighbouring branches down
And neighbouring stems, and strews the ground with wreck,
And to their fall the hollow mountain thunders;
Then dost thou guide me to the cave, where safe
I learn to know myself, and from my breast
Deep and mysterious wonders are unfolded.
Then mounts the pure white moon before mine eye
With mellow ray, and in her softening light,
From rocky wall, from humid brake, upfloat
The silvery shapes of times by-gone, and soothe
The painful pleasure of deep-brooding thought.
Alas! that man enjoys no perfect bliss,
I feel it now. Thou gav’st me with this joy,
Which brings me near and nearer to the gods,
A fellow, whom I cannot do without.
All cold and heartless, he debases me
Before myself, and, with a single breath,
Blows all the bounties of thy love to nought;
And fans within my breast a raging fire
For that fair image, busy to do ill.
Thus reel I from desire on to enjoyment,
And in enjoyment languish for desire.
EnterMephistopheles.
Mephistopheles.
What! not yet tired of meditation?
Methinks this is a sorry recreation.
To try it once or twice might do;
But then, again to something new.
Faust.
You might employ your time some better way
Than thus to plague me on a happy day.
Mephistopheles.
Well, well! I do not grudge you quiet,
You need my aid, and you cannot deny it.
There is not much to lose, I trow,
With one so harsh, and gruff, and mad as thou.
Toil! moil! from morn to ev’n, so on it goes!
And what one should, and what one should not do,
One cannot always read it on your nose.
Faust.
This is the proper tone for you!
Annoy me first, and then my thanks are due.
Mephistopheles.
Poor son of Earth! without my timed assistance,
How had you ever dragged on your existence?
From freakish fancy’s fevered effervescence,
I have worked long ago your convalescence,
And, but for me, you would have marched away,
In your best youth, from the blest light of day.
What have you here, in caves and clefts, to do,
Like an old owl, screeching to-whit, to-whoo?
Or like a torpid toad, that sits alone
Sipping the oozing moss and dripping stone?
A precious condition to be in!
I see the Doctor sticks yet in your skin.
Faust.
Couldst thou but know what re-born vigour springs
From this lone wandering in the wilderness,
Couldst thou conceive what heavenly joy it brings,
Then wert thou fiend enough to envy me my bliss.
Mephistopheles.
A supermundane bliss!
In night and dew to lie upon the height,
And clasp the heaven and earth in wild delight,
To swell up to the godhead’s stature,
And pierce with clear miraculous sight
The inmost pith of central Nature,
To carry in your breast with strange elation,
The ferment of the whole six days’ creation,
With proud anticipation of—I know
Not what—to glow in rapturous overflow,
And melt into the universal mind,
Casting the paltry son of earth behind;
And then, the heaven-sprung intuition
[With a gesture.] To end—I shall not say in what—fruition.
Faust.
Shame on thee!
Mephistopheles.
Yes! that’s not quite to your mind.
You have a privilege to cry out shame,
When things are mentioned by their proper name.
Before chaste ears one may not dare to spout
What chastest hearts yet cannot do without.
I do not envy you the pleasure
Of palming lies upon yourself at leisure;
But long it cannot last, I warrant thee.
You are returned to your old whims, I see,
And, at this rate, you soon will wear
Your strength away, in madness and despair.
Of this enough! thy love sits waiting thee,
In doubt and darkness, cabined and confined.
By day, by night, she has thee in her mind;
I trow she loves thee in no common kind.
Thy raging passion ’gan to flow,
Like a torrent in spring from melted snow;
Into her heart thy tide gushed high,
Now is thy shallow streamlet dry.
Instead of standing here to overbrim
With fine ecstatic rapture to the trees,
Methinks the mighty gentleman might please
To drop some words of fond regard, to ease
The sweet young chick who droops and pines for him.
Poor thing, she is half dead of ennui,
And at the window stands whole hours, to see
The clouds pass by the old town-wall along.
Were I a little bird! so goes her song
The live-long day, and half the night to boot.
Sometimes she will be merry, mostly sad,
Now, like a child, weeping her sorrows out,
Now calm again to look at, never glad;
Always in love.
Faust.
Thou snake! thou snake!
Mephistopheles.[to himself]
So be it! that my guile thy stubborn will may break!
Faust.
Hence and begone, thou son of filth and fire!
Name not the lovely maid again!
Bring not that overmastering desire
Once more to tempt my poor bewildered brain!
Mephistopheles.
What then? she deems that you are gone for ever;
And half and half methinks you are.
Faust.
No! I am nigh, and were I ne’er so far,
I could forget her, I could lose her never;
I envy ev’n the body of the Lord,
When on the sacred cake her lips she closes.
Mephistopheles.
Yes! to be honest, and confess my sins,
I oft have envied thee the lovely twins
That have their fragrant pasture among roses.
Faust.
Avaunt, thou pimp!
Mephistopheles.
Rail you, and I will laugh;
The God who made the human stuff
Both male and female, if the book don’t lie,
Himself the noblest trade knew well enough,
How to carve out an opportunity.
But come, why peak and pine you here?
I lead you to the chamber of your dear,
Not to the gallows.
Faust.
Ah! what were Heaven’s supremest blessedness
Within her arms, upon her breast, to me!
Must I not still be wrung with agony,
That I should plunge her into such distress?
I, the poor fugitive! outlaw from my kind,
Without a friend, without a home,
With restless heart, and aimless mind,
Unblest, unblessing, ever doomed to roam;
Who, like a waterfall, from rock to rock came roaring,
With greedy rage into the cauldron pouring;
While she, a heedless infant, rears
Sidewards her hut upon the Alpine field,
With all her hopes, and all her fears,
Within this little world concealed.
And I—the God-detested—not content
To seize the rocks, and in my headlong bent
To shatter them to dust, with ruthless tide
Her little shieling on the mountain side
Bore down, and wrecked her life’s sweet peace with mine.
And such an offering, Hell, must it be thine?
Help, Devil, to cut short the hour of ill!
What happen must, may happen when it will!
May her sad fate my crashing fall attend,
And she with me be ruined in the end!
Mephistopheles.
Lo! how it boils again and blows
Like furnace, wherefore no man knows.
Go in, thou fool, and let her borrow
From thee, sweet solace to her sorrow!
When such a brainsick dreamer sees
No road, where he to walk may please,
He stands and stares like Balaam’s ass,
As if a god did block the pass.
A man’s a man who does and dares!
In other points you’re spiced not scantly with the devil;
Nothing more silly moves on earth’s wide level,
Than is a devil who despairs.
Margaret’sRoom.
Margaretalone, at a Spinning-wheel.
Margaret.
My rest is gone,
My heart is sore;
Peace find I never,
And never more.
Where he is not
Life is the tomb,
The world is bitterness
And gloom.
Crazed is my poor
Distracted brain,
My thread of thought
Is rent in twain.
My rest is gone,
My heart is sore;
Peace find I never,
And never more.
I look from the window
For none but him,
I go abroad
For only him.
His noble air,
His bearing high,
The smile of his mouth,
The might of his eye,
And, when he speaks,
What flow of bliss!
The clasp of his hand,
And ah! his kiss!
My rest is gone,
My heart is sore;
Peace find I never,
And never more.
My bosom swells,
And pants for him.
O that I might clasp him,
And cling to him!
And kiss him, and kiss him
The live-long day,
And on his kisses
Melt away!
Martha’sGarden.
MargaretandFaust.
Margaret.
Promise me, Henry!
Faust.
What I can.
Margaret.
Of your religion I am fain to hear;
I know thou art a most kind-hearted man,
But as to thy belief I fear——
Faust.
Fear not! thou know’st I love thee well: and know
For whom I love my life’s last drop shall flow!
For other men, I have nor wish nor need
To rob them of their church, or of their creed.
Margaret.
That’s not enough; you must believe it too!
Faust.
Must I?
Margaret.
Alas! that I might work some change on you!
Not even the holy mass do you revere.
Faust.
I do revere ’t.
Margaret.
Yes, but without desire.
At mass and at confession, too, I fear,
Thou hast not shown thyself this many a year.
Dost thou believe in God?
Faust.
My love, who dares aspire
To say he doth believe in God?
May’st ask thy priests and sages all,
Their answer seems like mockery to fall
Upon the asker’s ear.
Margaret.
Then thou dost not believe?
Faust.
Misunderstand me not, thou sweet, angelic face!
Who dares pronounce His name?
And who proclaim—
I do believe in Him?
And who dares presume
To utter—I believe Him not?
The All-embracer,
The All-upholder,
Grasps and upholds He not
Thee, me, Himself?
Vaults not the Heaven his vasty dome above thee?
Stand not the earth’s foundations firm beneath thee?
And climb not, with benignant beaming,
Up heaven’s slope the eternal stars?
Looks not mine eye now into thine?
And feel’st thou not an innate force propelling
Thy tide of life to head and heart,
A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling,
Invisible visible moves beside thee?
Go, fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness,
And when thy heart brims with this feeling,
Then call it what thou wilt,
Heart! Happiness! Love! God!
I have no name for that which passes all revealing!
Feeling is all in all;
Name is but smoke and sound,
Enshrouding heaven’s pure glow.
Margaret.
All that appears most pious and profound;
Much of the same our parson says,
Only he clothes it in a different phrase.
Faust.
All places speak it forth;
All hearts, from farthest South to farthest North,
Proclaim the tale divine,
Each in its proper speech;
Wherefore not I in mine?
Margaret.
When thus you speak it does not seem so bad,
And yet is your condition still most sad:
Unless you are a Christian, all is vain.
Faust.
Sweet love!
Margaret.
Henry, it gives me pain,
More than my lips can speak, to see
Thee joined to such strange company.
Faust.
How so?
Margaret.
The man whom thou hast made thy mate,
Deep in my inmost soul I hate;
Nothing in all my life hath made me smart
So much as his disgusting leer.
His face stabs like a dagger through my heart!
Faust.
Sweet doll! thou hast no cause to fear.
Margaret.
It makes my blood to freeze when he comes near.
To other men I have no lack
Of kindly thoughts; but as I long
To see thy face, I shudder back
From him. That he’s a knave I make no doubt;
May God forgive me, if I do him wrong!
Faust.
Such grim old owls must be; without
Their help the world could not get on, I fear.
Margaret.
With men like him I would have nought to do!
As often as he shows him here,
He looks in at the door with such a scornful leer,
Half angry too;
Whate’er is done, he takes no kindly part;
And one can see it written on his face,
He never loved a son of Adam’s race.
Henry, within thy loving arm
I feel so free, so trustful-warm;
But when his foot comes near, I start,
And feel a freezing grip tie up my heart.
Faust.
O thou prophetic angel, thou!
Margaret.
This overpowers me so
That, when his icy foot may cross the door,
I feel as if I could not love thee more.
When he is here, too, I could never pray;
This eats my very heart. Now say,
Henry, is’t not the same with thee?
Faust.
Nay now, this is mere blind antipathy!
Margaret.
I must be gone.
Faust.
Oh! may it never be
That I shall spend one quiet hour with thee,
One single little hour, and breast on breast,
And soul on soul, with panting love, be pressed?
Margaret.
Alas! did I but sleep alone, this night
The door unbarred thy coming should invite;
But my good mother has but broken sleep;
And, if her ears an inkling got,
Then were I dead upon the spot!
Faust.
Sweet angel! that’s an easy fence to leap.
Here is a juice, whose grateful power can steep
Her senses in a slumber soft and deep;
Three drops mixed with her evening draught will do.
Margaret.
I would adventure this and more for you.
Of course, there’s nothing hurtful in the phial?
Faust.
If so, would I advise the trial?
Margaret.
Thou best of men, if I but look on thee,
All will deserts me to thy wish untrue;
So much already have I done for thee
That now scarce aught remains for me to do. [Exit.
EnterMephistopheles.
Mephistopheles.
Well, is the monkey gone?
Faust.
And you—must I
Submit again to see you play the spy?
Mephistopheles.
I have been duly advertised
How Doctor Faust was catechised:
I hope it will agree with you.