Faust

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)

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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)