Skip to main content

Full text of "Marlowe's Faustus : Goethe's Faust"

See other formats 


Messrs.  GEORGE  ROUTLEDGE  &  SON^  believe  that  Ihere 
j  is  in  England  a  very  large  public  demand  for  good  ,books.  P^ey 
j  believe  it  to  6e  larg^;"' enough  to  justify  the  productioxr^.pf  a  unfl^m 
I  series  of  very  cheap  volumes,  advancing,  in  course  of  time,  to^Nlrds 
j  the  reahzation^of  a  Univer-sal  L"ibrary  |hat  shall  contain  fi)/ the 
i  best  and  most  significant  books  in  the  world,  of  aff  times  outMe  the 
I  time  of  Copyright,- and  of  all  countries,  so  fac^  such  boo^lcan  be 
j  found  written  in  or  rendered  into:  English*  \ 'The  Publisb^Kf  wish  to 
produce  the  best  books  at  the  cheapest &|.£e-^that  is  to'Wl^,  in  bound 
lid  well-printed  volumes  of  320  pages  for  a  Shy^jJ^.  The  Editor 
horn  they  have  looked  for  aid  in  working  out  their  purpose  shares 
ith  in  the  demand  for  easiest  access  to  all  forms  of  the  world's 
d  all  forms  of  opinion  that  have  helped  to  shape  the  lives 
^a  agrees  therefore  to  be  responsible  for  the  selection  of 
Nd  in  this  way,  and  he  will  issue  each  of  them  with  a 
n,  giving  son  le  account  of  its  writer  and  some  indica- 
"  .erature. 

ese  volumes,  as  first  published,  there  will  be 

that  aims  at  variety.     As  they  multiply 

admit  of  any  classification   that   most 

^  will  be  in  them  the  best  Plays  and 

*he  best  books  of  Travel,  Histories, 

^cteristic   in   the  speculations  of 

"^^  books  of  most  mark  in  the 

^nse  of  his  relation  towards 

'^^me,  from  Confucius  to 

\to  head  the  Greeks, 

\j  so  forth.      The 

Xitor,  if  English 

3     1153     DOlbSmO     7  ^compass  of 


BOOK    822.3.M34aF   c.  1 
MARLOWE    #    MARLOWES    FAUSTUS 


h- 


.:>  r*^'-  i^     \^  hr^ 


e/ 


A/r  .  - 


u 


SALLANTYNE,  HANSON  AND  CO.,  EDINBURGH 
CHANDOS  STREET,  LONDON 


l_ 


/  o  L^     \~  Ar-  I  z 


>^'  O    !^ 


MARLOWE'S    FaUSTUS    f(^ 

GoETHE's   Faust 

from  tbc  6erman 


BY 


JOHN    ANSTER,    LL.D. 


JV/TH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  HENRY  MORLEY 

LL.D.,    PROFESSOR   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE   AT 
UNIVERSITY  COJ.LEGE,   LONDON 


LONDON 
GEORGE    ROUTLEDGE    AND    SONS 

BROADWAY,    LUDGATE    HILL 
NEW    YORK:     9    LAFAYETTE    PLACE 


,<  -7 


^r:r: 


CONTENTS. 


Faustus 
Faust    . 


PAGE 

9 
71 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  the  autumn  of  1587,  at  the  Fair  of  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  then  the 
headquarters  of  the  German  book  trade,  a  bookseller  named  Johann  Spies 
produced  the  first  History  of  Johann  Faust,  the  far-famed  Magician  and 
Black-Artist.  It  was  entitled  Historia  vofi  D.  Joha7i7i  Faustcn,  de7n  weit 
heschreyteji  Zanberer  und  SchwartzkUnstler.  The  o;ily  complete  copy  of 
it  now  known  is  in  the  Imperial  Library  at  Vienna.  The  unknown  writer 
of  this  book  seems  to  have  been  a  clergyman  of  the  Reformed  Church,  who 
caught  the  attention  of  the  people  by  stringing  together  incidents  of  magic 
associated  with  the  fabulous  career  of  a  man  who  bad  died  some  fifty 
years  before,  and  whose  name  and  fame  survived  him.  The  writer's  desire 
was  to  warn  against  presumptuous  sins ;  to  attack,  through  Faust,  the 
pride  of  intellect  that  sets  God  at  defiance,  and  through  stories  of  Faust's 
magic  to  pour,  now  and  then,  Protestant  scorn  upon  tlie  Pope. 

The  original  Faustus  traded  upon  superstition  in  the  Reformation  time. 
The  date  assigned  to  his  death,  1538,  was  eight  years  before  that  of  Luther. 
The  earliest  known  mention  of  him — if  it  be  of  him — is  by  a  liberal  scholar 
of  high  reputation,  Johann  Trittenheim  (Trithemius)  Abbot  of  Spanheim, 
who  met  him  at  Gelnhausen  in  May,  1506.  He  knew  him  as  a  Georgius 
Sabellicus,  who  boasted  that  if  all  the  works  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  were 
burnt,  he  could  restore  them  from  his  memory.  He  avoided  meeting 
Trittenheim,  by  whom  he  was  despised  as  a  charlatan,  but  left  his  card  for 
him.  On  his  card  he  described  himself  as  "  Magister  Georgius  Sabellicus, 
Faustus  junior,  fons  necromanticorum,  magus  secundus,  chiromanticus, 
agromanticus,  pyromanticus,  in  hydra  arte  secundus."  The  name  of 
"Faustus  junior,"  in  this  first  record  of  an  actual  magician  taking  the 
name  of  Faustus,  might  point  to  the  fame  of  a  preceding  conjuror  who  had 
borne  the  name  of  Faustus  in  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  who 
had  laid  foundations  of  a  common  fame  associated  with  tlie  name,  although 
there  is  no  other  trace  of  his  existence.  It  may  have  been  his  actual  name, 
or  he  may  have  taken  it  as  a  Latin  addition,  meaning  Fortunate.  A  fifteenth 
century  Faustus  may  have  been  one  man,  Georgius  Sabellicus  another,  and. 
our  Faustus  (of  whom,  in  that  case,  the  first  notice  would  be  in  1525),  a 
third.  In  1513  Conrad  Mudt,  a  friend  of  Melancthou,  spoke  of  a  braggart 
and  fool  who  pretended  to  magic,  whom  he  had  found  at  Erfurth,  calling 
himself  "Georgius  Faustus  Hemitheus,"  (demigod)  "  of  Heidelberg."  An 
old  Leipzig  chronicle  gives  1525  as  the  year  in  which  Doctor  Johann  Faust 
rode  before  the  eyes  of  many  people  out  of  Auerbach's  cellar  on  a  barrel  of 
wine,  with  which  he  refreshed  the  students.  The  feat  was  celebrated  by 
two  pictures  on  the  walls  of  the  cellar,  and  under  the  picture  of  Faust  and 
the  students  drinking  were  lines  to  this  effect — 

Live  thou,  drink,  and  remember  how  Faustus  lived  for  his  pleasure, 
Lame-footed,  slow-coming  Pain  overtook  him,  Pain  without  measure. 

In  a  volume  of  notes  from  the  conversation  of   Melancthon   {Locornm 


INTRODUCTION. 


C07nmunium  collcctanex ;  a  Johanue  Manlio  per  viultos  annos  pleraque 
turn  ex  lectionibiis  D.  Philippi  Melaucilioiiis,  turn  ex  aliorum  vlrorum 
rclationibtis  cxcerpta  ct  nuper  in  ordinem  ab  eodeyn  redacta),  Johann 
Mennel  represents  that  Reformer  as  saying  :  "I  knew  a  man  named 
Faustus,  out  of  Kiindling"  (Kniitlingen),  "a  little  town  not  far  from  my 
own  home"  (at  Bretten,  in  Baden,  Kniitlingen  being  a  frontier  town  of 
Wurtemburg).  "When  he  studied  at  Cracow  he  learnt  magic,  as  it  used 
to  be  actively  taught  there,  where  public  lectures  were  read  on  the  art. 
Afterwards  he  roamed  about  and  talked  of  secret  things.  When  he 
sought  attention  at  Venice,  he  gave  out  that  he  would  fly.  The  Devil 
lifted  him  to  some  height,  but  then  let  him  fall,  so  that  he  almost  died 
of  the  bruise.  Not  many  years  ago  this  Johannes  Faustus  sat,  on  his  last 
day,  greatly  troubled,  in  a  Wurtemberg  village  inn.  The  innkeeper  asked 
him  why  he  was  so  much  troubled  and  unlike  himself,  for  he  had  formerly 
been  a  wild  fellow,  who  more  than  once  was  nearly  killed  over  his  love 
affairs.  Whereupon  lie  replied  to  that  village  innkeeper  :  '  Do  not  be 
frightened  to-night.'  At  midnight  the  house  shook.  As  Faustus  had  not 
risen  next  morning,  when  it  was  already  noon,  the  innkeeper  went  into  his 
room,  and  found  him  lying  near  the  bed  with  his  face  twisted  round.  It 
was  so  that  the  Devil  killed  him.  When  he  yet  lived  he  went  about  with 
a  dog,  who  was  the  Devil." 

This  was  published  in  1562,  In  1563  appeared  Wier's  wise  and  generous 
book,  De  Prcestigiis  Dcevzonuvi  ct  iiicantationibiis  ac  veneficiis,  in  which 
there  are  stories  of  Faustus.  Wier  follows  Mennel's  record  as  to  the  magi- 
cian's birthplace  ;  and  in  1585,  two  years  before  the  pubhcation  of  the  book 
on  Faustus  at  the  Frankfort  fair,  another  book,  by  Augustin  Lercheimer — 
Bcdcnckcn  von  Zanbcrcy — suggested  by  indignation  against  the  cruelties 
practised  on  witches,  who  should  be  placed,  said  Lercheimer,  under  the 
doctor  and  the  divine,  not  under  the  criminal  judge,  told  more  stories 
about  Faustus,  and  gave  the  right  form  of  the  name  of  his  birthplace, 
Kniitlingen.  Roda,  which  Marlowe  translates  Rhodes,  first  appears  as 
Faust's  birthplace  in  the  first  edition  of  the  famous  prose  story,  published 
in  Frankfort  in  1587,  at  the  autumn  book  fair. 

That  book  was  widely  read.  Before  the  end  of  the  year  John  Aylmer, 
Bishop  of  London,  licensed  "A  Ballad  of  the  Life  and  Death  of  Doctor 
Faustus,  the  great  Conjuror."  In  the  following  year,  1588,  there  was  a  new 
edition  of  the  original  German  book,  with  some  additions,  also  a  rhymed 
version  in  German,  and  a  translation  into  Low  German.  From  the  second 
edition  of  the  book  published  at  PYankfort,  a  translation  was  made  into 
English,  and  published,  without  date,  in  1588  or  1589,  as  The  History  of 
the  Daintiable  Life  and  Deserved  Death  of  Dr.  John  Faustus.  Newly 
printed,  and  in  convenient  places  impej'tinent  matter  amended,  according  to 
the  true  copy  printed  at  Frankfort,  and  translated  into  English  by  P.  R. 
Gent.  At  the  same  time  young  Christopher  Marlowe  must  have  been  turn- 
ing the  new  story-book  into  a  play.  ']"he  original  German  book  of  1587 
was  translated  into  French  by  Victor  Palma  Cayct,  whose  translation  was 
published  in  1589,  and  in  1592  there  appeared  a  Dutch  translation  of  the 
second  German  edition.  This  translation  not  only  gave  1538  as  the  year 
of  the  death  of  Faustus,  but  fi.xed  also  the  exact  time  of  his  being  carried 
off  by  the  Devil.  It  was  in  "the  night  between  the  23rd  and  24th  of 
October. 

In  1587,  when  the  story  of  Faustus  first  appeared  at  Frankfort,  Christopher 
Marlovvc  was  a  young  man  in  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  He  had 
been  baptized  on  the  26th  of  February,  1564  (new  style)  in  the  Church  of 
St.  George  the  Martyr,  at  Cant,orbury.  His  father  was  John  Marlowe,  a 
shoemaker.     After  education  at  the  King's  School,  in  Canterbury,  hematri- 


INTRODUCTION. 


ciliated  as  a  Pensioner  of  Benct  College,  Cambridge.  Christopher  Marlowe 
matriculated  at  Cambridge  in  March,  1581,  and  probably  owed  his  college 
education  to  the  kindness  of  Sir  Roger  Manwood.  Sir  Roger  had  himself 
risen  from  the  ranks  to  which  John  Marlowe  belonged  ;  he  was  distinguished 
for  munificence,  and  had  his  chief  mansion  near  Canterbury.  In  1583 
Christopher  Marlowe  took  his  B.A.  degree,  and  he  proceeded  to  M.A.  in 
1587,  when  he  had  alrendy  leapt  to  fame  as  a  dramatist  by  the  great  success 
of  his  first  play.  That  play  w\as  Tainbnrlainc  the  Great.  A  letter  by 
Thomas  Nash,  prefixed  to  Greene's  Mcnaphon,  published  in  1587,  condemns 
the  recent  introduction  of  blank  verse  upon  the  stage,  audit  was  Marlowe, 
in  his  Tambnrlaiae,  who  introduced  it.  In  the  next  year,  1588,  Greene,  in 
an  address  "  to  the  Gentlemen  Readers"  prefixed  to  his  novel  of  Pcrimcdes, 
the  Blacksmith,  refers  directly  to  the  "  daring  of  God  out  of  Heaven"  by 
"  that  atheist  Tamburlan." 

IMarlovve  and  Shakespeare  were  within  two  months  of  the  same  age. 
Shakespeare  came  to  London  about  the  year  1586,  twenty-five  years  after 
the  production  of  Gorbodiic,  our  earliest  English  tragedy.  During  those 
twenty-five  years  few  plays  of  high  mark  had  been  produced.  The  writers 
had  been  almost  invariably  young  University  men.  Shakespeare  studied  his 
art  as  an  actor,  and  as  an  altercr  of  other  men's  plays,  for  about  six  years  be- 
fore he  declared  his  strength  as  an  original  writer.  Those  six  years  of 
Shakespeare's  training  time  include  almost  the  whole  career  of  Marlowe,  the 
greatest  of  liis  predecessors,  from  the  first  acting  of  Tambiirlainc,  in  1586  or 
1587,  until  his  death  by  a  stab  in  a  tavern  brawl  on  the  ist  of  June,  1593, 
when  he  was  little  more  than  twenty-nine  years  old.  Marlowe's  Tambiirlaiiie 
— Timourthe  Tartar — was  the  story  of  a  Scythian  shepherd  chief,  who  began 
with  revolt  from  Persia,  then  rolled  a  tide  of  conquest  through  the  Eastern 
world,  and  was  the  scourge  of  kings.  Marlowe  represented  his  swelling 
pride,  that  braved  at  last  the  Gods  themselves,  in  bombastic  phrase,  but  with 
the  grand  energy  of  a  young  poet  who  had  also  realms  to  conquer.  In  a 
prologue  of  eight  lines  Marlowe  began  with  a  repudiation  of  rhyme,  and  dis- 
dain of  the  base  jesting  of  the  clown  who  intruded  himself  too  freely  on  the 
action  of  our  early  plays. 

From  jigging  veins  of  rhyming  mother  wits 
And  such  conceits  as  clownage  keeps  in  pay, 
I'll  lead  you 

said  Marlowe,  and  there  are  no  clown  scenes  in  any  of  his  plays,  excepting 
Faustus.  l^iesh  from  the  display  of  pride  in  the  strong  arm  of  the  flesh 
defying  Heaven,  Marlowe  was  ready  to  write  his  second  play  when  the  Faust 
story  appeared  at  Frankfort.  Probably  the  book  was  brought  to  England 
by  a  company  of  English  players,  who  are  known  to  have  been  in  the  service 
of  Duke  Christian  of  Saxony  in  October,  1586.  But  however  Marlowe  came 
bv  the  book,  in  the  very  year  of  its  first  publication,  here  was  a  picture  of 
the  pride  of  intellect  defiant  of  its  Giver,  and  although  there  were  many 
clownish  incidents  of  magic  in  the  original  book  that  were  intended  to  blend 
jest  with  earnest,  Marlowe  probably  confined  himself  to  the  poetical  develop- 
ment of  the  main  thought.  Clown  scenes,  not  pertinent  to  the  main  story, 
were,  I  believe,  added  ""at  will  by  the  players  for  the  satisfaction  of  their 
audiences.  This  is  fairly  to  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  earliest  known 
edition  of  Marlowe's  Faustus  was  published  in  1604,  and  entries  in  the  diary 
of  Henslowe  the  player,  dated  respectively  1597  and  1602,  record  payments 
for  "  additions  to  Faustus." 

Goethe's  Faust  was  first  published  in  1806,  after  a  slow  development 
through  many  years.  The  ballad  of  the  King  of  Thule,  the  first  monologue, 
and  the  first  scene  with  Wagner,  were  written  in  1774-5  ;  from  that  time 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

onward  Goethe  made  fragmentary  additions  from  time  to  time.  In  1797  he 
remodelled  the  whole  work,  then  added  the  two  Prologues  and  the  Walpur- 
gis  night.  In  1801  the  work  was  finished.  The  feebler  Second  Part  of 
^Fanst,  completed  in  July,  1831,  at  the  age  of  81 — Goethe  died  on  the  22nd  of 
Alarch,  1832 — was  an  after  thought,  continuing  to  the  end  association  of 
the  Faust  legend  with  thoughts  and  feelings  from  his  own  experience  of  life. 
"  The  marionette  fable  of  Faust,"  he  said,  "  murmured  with  many  voices  in 
my  soul.  I  too  had  wandered  into  every  department  of  knowledge,  and 
liad  returned  early  enough  satisfied  with  the  vanity  of  science.  And  life,  too, 
I  had  tried  under  various  aspects,  and  always  came  back  sorrowing  and 
unsatisfied." 

Here  it  must  be  enough  to  say  that  Johann  Wolfgang  von  Goethe  was 
born  at  Frankfort -on-the-Main,  August  28,  1749.  His  father  was  an 
Imperial  Councillor  with  refined  tastes,  which  he  could  satisfy,  and  in  which  he 
could  train  his  son.  Geothe  studied  at  Leipsic,  and  afterwards  at  Strasburg  ; 
cared  more  for  the  natural  sciences  than  for  law  ;  took  the  degree  of  doctor, 
and  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  represented  the  sick  mind  of  Europe  in  the 
days  before  the  French  Revolution  with  the  ' '  Sorrows  of  the  Young  Werter," 
first  published  in  1774.  In  1779  he  entered  the  service  of  the  Duke  of  Saxe 
Weimar,  by  whom  he  was  employed  in  high  offices,  loaded  with  honours, 
and  impeded  in  the  free  use  of  his  mind.  But  after  the  first  ten  years  at 
Weimar,  a  journey  to  Italy  gave  impulse  to  his  genius,  and  bore  fruit  in 
Iphigenia,  Eguionf,  Tasso,  and  much  of  Faust.  This  greatest  of  German 
poets  began  his  career,  like  Schiller,  with  reaction  against  a  literature  of 
classical  convention  and  a  life  encumbered  with  dead  forms.  He  gave,  for 
Germany,  highest  expression  to  the  struggle  for  a  real  life,  uttering  itself  in 
a  real  literature.  Taught  by  the  free  spirit  of  Shakespeare,  he  turned  early 
from  the  classical  drama  to  represent  in  Gotz  von  Bcrlichingen,  a  hero  out 
of  the  old  national  tradition,  who  like  himself,  though  in  another  way,  defied 
authority.  As  flie  healtliy  artist  life  developed,  the  poet  was  the  man.  From 
the  lightest  grace  of  song  to  the  large  conception  of  his  burgher  epic, 
Hermann  und  Dorothea,  most  of  all  in  his  Faust,  all  is  direct  utterance  of 
his  own  inner  life,  with  the  intensity  and  the  repose  of  thought  that  through 
the  man  himself,  and  his  own  life  problems,  touched  all  humanity  in  a  time 
of  Revolution,  when  minds  exulted  in  the  new  sense  of  recovered  power. 
Goethe  solved  no  riddle  of  hfe,  but  he  expressed  himself,  and,  through  him- 
self, a  world  of  newly  wakened  thought  among  men,  with  the  full  sincerity 
that  is  of  the  essence  of  all  high  artistic  power. 

Dr.  John  Anster,  whose  version  is  here  given,  was  the  earliest  translator  of 
Faust  into  English.  He  was  born  in  Cork  at  the  close  of  the  last  century, 
educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  called  to  the  Irish  Bar  in  1824, 
He  graduated  as  LL.D.  in  1826.  He  had  published  at  one-and-twenty  a 
prize  poem,  and  Poems  with  Translations  from  the  German,  and  after  con- 
tributing to  Dlack-ioood's  Magazine — in  which  he  was  a  frequent  writer — ■ 
fragments  of  his  translation  of  Faust,  he  published  the  whole  in  1835. 

In  1850  Dr.  Anster  was  appointed  Regius  Professor  of  Civil  Law  in  the 
University  of  Dublin.  He  died  in  June,  1867.  His  translation  oi Faust 
gave  pleasure  to  Coleridge,  and  is  liked  in  Germany. 

7^^h,  1883.  HENRY  MORLEY. 


The    Tragical    History   of 
Doctor  F'austus. 

[Fro7H  the  Quarto  of  1604.1 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 


The  Pope. 

Cardinal  of  Lorrain. 

The  Emperor  of  Germany. 

Duke  of  Vanholt. 

Faustus. 

Valdes,       •)  ^  .     ,  ,   „ 

[.friends  to  Faustus. 
Cornelius,) 

Wagner,  servant  to  Faustus. 

Clown. 

Robin. 

Ralph. 

Vintner. 

Horse-Courser. 

A.  Knight. 


An  Old  Man. 

Scholars,  Friars,  and  Attendants, 

Duchess  of  Vanholt, 

Lucifer. 

Belzebub. 

Mephistophilis. 

Good  Angel. 

Evil  Angel. 

The  Seven  Deadly  Sins. 

Devils, 

Spirits  in  the  shapes  of  Alexander 

THE  Great,  of  his  Paramour, 

and  of  Helen. 
Chorus. 


Enter  Chorus. 

Cho.  Not  marching  now  in  fields  of  Thrasymene, 
Where  Mars  did  mate  the  Carthaginians  j 
Nor  sporting  in  the  dalHance  of  love, 
In  courts  of  kings,  where  state  is  overturn'd'^ 


10  FAUSTUS.  [act  I, 

Nor  in  the  pomp  of  proud  audacious  deeds, 

Intends  our  muse  to  vaunt  her  heavenly  verse  : 

Only  this,  gentlemen, — we  must  perform 

The  form  of  Faustus'  fortunes,  good  or  bad. 

To  patient  judgments  we  appeal  our  plaud, 

And  speak  for  Faustus  in  his  infancy. 

Now  is  he  born,  his  parents  base  of  stock. 

In  Germany,  within  a  town  call'd  Rhodes : 

Of  riper  years,  to  Wertenberg  he  went, 

Whereas  his  kinsmen  chiefly  brought  him.  up. 

So  soon  he  profits  in  divinity, 

The  fruitful  plot  of  scholarism  grac'd, 

That  shortly  he  was  grac'd  with  doctor's  name. 

Excelling  all  whose  sweet  delight  disputes 

In  heavenly  matters  of  theology ; 

Till  swoln  with  cunning  of  a  self-conceit, 

His  waxen  wings  did  mount  above  his  reach, 

And,  melting,  heavens  conspir'd  his  overthrow; 

For,  falling  to  a  deviHsh  exercise, 

And  glutted  now  with  learning's  golden  gifts, 

He  surfeits  upon  cursed  necromancy ;    . 

Nothing  so  sweet  as  magic  is  to  him. 

Which  he  prefers  before  his  chiefest  bliss : 

And  this  the  man  that  in  his  study  sits.  \Exit. 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS,  II 

ACT  I. 
Scene   I. 
Faustus  discovei'ed  in  his  study. 
Faust,  Settle  thy  studies,  Faustus,  and  begin 
To  sound  the  depth  of  that  thou  wilt  profess  : 
Having  commenc'd,  be  a  divine  in  shew, 
Yet  level  at  the  end  of  every  art, 
And  live  and  die  in  Aristotle's  works. 
Sweet  Analytics,  'tis  thou  hast  ravish'd  me ! 
Bene  disserere  est  finis  logiccs. 
Is,  to  dispute  well,  logic's  chiefest  end  ? 
Affords  this  art  no  greater  miracle  ? 
Then  read  no  more  ;  thou  hast  attain'd  that  end  : 
A  greater  subject  fitteth  Faustus'  wit : 
Bid  Economy  farewell,  Galen  come  : 
Seeing,  Ubi  desinit philosophus,  ibi  incipit  medicus  : 
Be  a  physician,  Faustus ;  heap  up  gold. 
And  be  eterniz'd  for  some  wondrous  cure. 
Suniinum  bonum  medicincz  sanitas. 
The  end  of  physic  is  our  body's  health. 
Why,  Faustus,  hast  thou  not  attain'd  that  end  ? 
Is  not  thy  common  talk  sound  aphorisms  ? 
Are  not  thy  bills  hung  up  as  monuments, 
Whereby  whole  cities  have  escap'd  the  plague, 
And  thousand  desperate  maladies  been  eas'd  ? 
Yet  art  thou  still  but  Faustus,  and  a  man. 


13 


FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 


Couldst  thou  make  men  to  live  eternally, 

Or,  being  dead,  raise  them  to  life  again, 

Then  this  profession  were  to  be  esteem'd. 

Physic,  farewell !     Where  is  Justinian  ?  \Reads. 

Si  ima  eademqiie  res  legatur  duobus^  alter  rem, 

Alter  valorem  rei,  etc. 

A  pretty  case  of  paltry  legacies  !  [Reads. 

ExhcBredltare  filium  ?ion  potest  pater,  nisi,  etc. 

Such  is  the  subject  of  the  institute, 

And  universal  body  of  the  law  : 

This  study  fits  a  mercenary  drudge, 

Who  aims  at  nothing  but  external  trash ; 

Too  servile  and  illiberal  for  me. 

When  all  is  done,  divinity  is  best : 

Jerome's  Bible,  li'austus ;  view  it  well.  [Reads. 

Stipendium  peccati  mors  est  .•  Ha  !  Stipendium, 

The  reward  of  sin  is  death  :  that's  hard.  [Reads. 

Si  peccasse  7iega7nus,  fallimur,  et  nulla  est  in  nobis  Veritas  ; 

If  we  say  that  we  have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and 
there  is  no  truth  in  us. 

Why,  then,  belike  we  must  sin,  and  so  consequently  die  : 

Ay,  we  must  die  an  everlasting  death. 

What  doctrine  call  you  this,  Che  sera,  sera, 

V/hat  will  be,  shall  be  ?     Divinity,  adieu  ! 

These  metaphysics  of  magicians. 

And  necromantic  books  are  heavenly ; 

Lines,  circles,  scenes,  letters,  and  characters; 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  13 

Ay,  these  are  those  that  Faustus  most  desires. 

O,  what  a  world  of  profit  and  delight, 

Of  power,  of  honour,  of  omnipotence. 

Is  promis'd  to  the  studious  artizan  ! 

All  things  that  move  between  the  quiet  poles 

Shall  be  at  my  command  :  emperors  and  kings 

Are  but  obeyed  in  their  several  provinces. 

Nor  can  they  raise  the  wind  or  rend  the  clouds  ; 

But  his  domin-ion  that  exceeds  in  this, 

Stretcheth  as  far  as  doth  the  mind  of  man ; 

A  sound  magician  is  a  mighty  god  : 

Here,  Faustus,  tire  thy  brains  to  gain  a  deity. 

Enter  Wagner. 

Faust.  Wagner,  commend  me  to  my  dearest  friends, 
The  German  Valdes  and  Cornelius  ; 
Request  them  earnestly  to  visit  me. 

Wag.  I  will,  sir.  \Exit. 

Faust.  Their  conference  will  be  a  greater  help  to  me 
Than  all  my  labours,  plod  I  ne'er  so  fast. 

Enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel. 

Good  A?ig.  O,  Faustus,  lay  that  damned  book  aside, 
And  gaze  not  on  it,  lest  it  tempt  thy  soul, 
And  heap  God's  heavy  wrath  upon  thy  head  ! 
Read,  read  the  Scriptures  : — that  is  blasphemy. 

Evil  A?ig.  Go  forward.  Faustus,  in  that  famous  art 


H  FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 

Wherein  all  Nature's  treasure  is  contain'd  : 

Be  thou  on  earth  as  Jove  is  in  the  sky, 

Lord  and  commander  of  these  elements.     \Exeimt  Angels, 

Faust.  How  am  I  glutted  with  conceit  of  this  ! 
Shall  I  make  spirits  fetch  me  what  I  please, 
Resolve  me  of  all  ambiguities, 
Perform  what  desperate  enterprise  I  will  ? 
I'll  have  them  fly  to  India  for  gold. 
Ransack  the  ocean  for  orient  pearl, 
And  search  all  corners  of  the  new-found  world 
For  pleasant  fruits  and  princely  delicates ; 
I'll  have  them  read  me  strange  philosophy, 
And  tell  the  secrets  of  all  foreign  kings ; 
I'll  have  them  wall  all  Germany  with  brass, 
And  make  swift  Rhine  circle  fair  Wertenberg  \ 
I'll  have  them  fill  the  public  schools  with  silk. 
Wherewith  the  students  shall  be  bravely  clad ; 
I'll  levy  soldiers  with  the  coin  they  bring, 
And  chase  the  Prince  of  Parma  from  our  land, 
And  reign  sole  king  of  all  the  provinces ; 
Yea,  stranger  engines  for  the  brunt  of  war. 
Than  was  the  fiery  keel  at  Antwerp's  bridge, 
ril  make  my  servile  spirits  to  invent. 

Enter  Valdes  and  Cornelius. 

Come,  German  Valdes,  and  Cornelius, 

And  make  me  blest  with  your  sage  conference. 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS,  15 

Valdes,  sweet  Valdes,  and  Cornelius, 

Know  that  your  words  have  won  me  at  the  last 

To  practise  magic  and  concealed  arts : 

Yet  not  your  words  only,  but  mine  own  fantasy, 

That  will  receive  no  object;  for  my  head 

But  ruminates  on  necromantic  skill. 

Philosophy  is  odious  and  obscure  ; 

Both  law  and  physic  are  for  petty  wits ; 

Divinity  is  basest  of  the  three, 

Unpleasant,  harsh,  contemptible,  and  vile : 

'Tis  magic,  magic,  that  hath  ravish'd  me. 

Then,  gentle  friends,  aid  me  in  this  attempt ; 

And  I,  that  have  with  concise  syllogisms 

Gravell'd  the  pastors  of  the  German  church. 

And  made  the  flowering  pride  of  Wertenberg 

Swarm  to  my  problems,  as  the  infernal  spirits 

On  sweet  Musaeus  when  he  came  to  hell. 

Will  be  as  cunning  as  Agrippa  was, 

Whose  shadow  made  all  Europe  honour  him. 

VaL  Faustus,  these  books,  thy  wit,  and  our  experience, 
Shall  make  all  nations  to  canonize  us. 
As  Indian  Moors  obey  their  Spanish  lords, 
So  shall  the  spirits  of  every  element 
Be  always  serviceable  to  us  three ; 
Like  lions  shall  they  guard  us  when  we  please ; 
Like  Almain  rutters  with  their  horsemen's  staves, 
Or  Lapland  giants,  trotting  by  our  sides  ; 


i6  FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 

Sometimes  like  women,  or  unwedded  maids, 

Shadowing  more  beauty  in  their  airy  brows 

Than  have  the  white  breasts  of  the  Queen  of  Love : 

From  Venice  shall  they  drag  huge  argosies, 

And  from  America  the  golden  fleece 

That  yearly  stuffs  old  Philip's  treasury ; 

If  learned  Faustus  will  be  resolute. 

Faust.  Valdes,  as  resolute  am  I  in  this 
As  thou  to  live  :  therefore  object  it  not. 

Cor7i.  The  miracles  that  magic  will  perform 
Will  make  thee  vow  to  study  nothing  else. 
He  that  is  grounded  in  astrology, 
Enrich'd  with  tongues,  well  seen  in  minerals, 
Hath  all  the  principles  magic  doth  require  : 
Then  doubt  not,  Faustus,  but  to  be  renown'd, 
And  more  frequented  for  this  mystery 
Than  heretofore  the  Delphian  oracle. 
The  spirits  tell  me  they  can  dry  the  sea, 
And  fetch  the  treasure  of  all  foreign  wrecks, 
Ay,  all  the  wealth  that  our  forefathers  hid 
Within  the  massy  entrails  of  the  earth  : 
Then  tell  me,  Faustus,  what  shall  we  three  want  ? 

Faust.  Nothing,  Cornelius.     O,  this  cheers  my  soul ! 
Come,  shew  me  some  demonstrations  magical. 
That  I  may  conjure  in  some  lusty  grove, 
And  have  these  joys  in  full  possession. 

Val  Then  haste  thee  to  some  solitary  grove^ 


SCENE  ii.l  FAUSTUS.  17 

And  bear  wise  Bacon's  and  Albertus'  works, 
The  Hebrew  Psalter,  and  New  Testament; 
And  whatsoever  else  is  requisite 
We  will  inform  thee  ere  our  conference  cease. 

Corn.  Valdes,  first  let  him  know  the  words  of  art ; 
And  then,  all  other  ceremonies  learn'd, 
Faustus  may  try  his  cunning  by  himself. 

Val.  First  I'll  instruct  thee  in  the  rudiments, 
And  then  wilt  thou  be  perfecter  than  I. 

Faust.  Then  come  and  dine  with  me,  and  after  meat, 
We'll  canvass  every  quiddity  thereof; 
For,  ere  I  sleep,  I'll  try  what  I  can  do : 
This  night  I'll  conjure,  though  I  die  therefore.         \Exeuni, 

Scene   II. 
Enter  two  Scholars. 
First  SchoL  I  wonder  what's  become  of  Faustus,  that  was 
wont  to  make  our  schools  ring  with  sic probo. 
*■    Sec.  Schol.  That  shall  we  know ;   for  see,  here  comes  his 
boy. 

Enter  Wagner. 
First  SchoL  How  now,  sirrah  !  where's  thy  master  ? 
Wag.  God  in  heaven  knows. 
Sec.  Schol.  Why,  dost  not  thou  know  ? 
Wag.  Yes,  I  know ;  but  that  follows  not. 
First  Schol.  Go  to,  sirrah  !  leave  your  jesting,  and  tell  us 
where  he  is. 


1 8  FAUSTUS,  [act  I. 

Wag.  That  follows  not  necessary  by  force  of  argument, 
that  you,  being  licentiates,  should  stand  upon  it :  therefore 
acknowledge  your  error,  and  be  attentive. 

Sec.  Schol.  Why,  didst  thou  not  say  thou  knewest  ? 

Wag.  Have  you  any  v/itness  on't? 

First  ScJiol.  Yes,  sirrah,  I  heard  you. 

Wag.  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief. 

Sec.  Schol.  Well,  you  will  not  tell  us  ? 

Wag.  Yes,  sir,  I  will  tell  you  :  yet,  if  you  v/ere  not  dunces, 
you  would  never  ask  me  such  a  question  ;  for  is  not  he  corpus 
naturaie  ?  and  is  not  that  mobile  ?  then  wherefore  should 
you  ask  me  such  a  question  ?  But  that  I  am  by  nature 
phlegmatic,  slow  to  wrath,  and  prone  to  lechery  (to  love,  I 
would  say),  it  were  not  for  you  to  com.e  within  forty  foot  of 
the  place  of  execution,  although  I  do  not  doubt  but  to  see 
you  both  hanged  the  next  sessions.  Thus  having  triumphed 
over  you,  I  will  set  my  countenance  like  a  precisian,  and 
begin  to  speak  thus  : — Truly,  my  dear  brethren,  my  master 
is  within  at  dinner,  with  Valdes  and  Cornelius,  as  this  wine, 
if  it  could  speak,  would  inform  your  worships  :  and  so,  the 
Lord  bless  you,  preserve  you,  and  keep  you,  my  dear 
brethren,  my  dear  brethren  !  [^Exit. 

First  Schol.  Nay,  then,  I  fear  he  is  fallen  into  that  damned 
art  for  which  they  two  are  infamous  through  the  world. 

Sec.  Schol.  Were  he  a  stranger,  and  not  allied  to  me,  yet 
should  I  grieve  for  him.  But,  conie,  let  us  go  and  inform  the 
Rector,  and  see  if  he  by  his  grave  counsel  can  reclaim  him. 


SCENE  iii.J  FAUSTUS.  IQ 

First  Scliol.  O,  but  I  fear  me  nothing  can  reclaim  him  ! 
Sec.  Schol.  Yet  let  us  try  what  we  can  do.  \Exetmt. 

Scene  III. 
Flitter  Faustus  to  conjure. 

Faust.  Now  that  the  gloomy  shadow  of  the  earth, 
Longing  to  view  Orion's  drizzling  look, 
Leaps  from  th'  antarctic  world  unto  the  sky, 
And  dims  the  welkin  with  her  pitchy  breath, 
Faustus,  begin  thine  incantations, 
And  try  if  devils  will  obey  thy  hest. 
Seeing  thou  hast  pray'd  and  sacrific'd  to  them. 
Within  this  circle  is  Jehovah's  name. 
Forward  and  backward  anagrammatiz'd, 
Th'  abbreviated  names  of  holy  saints, 
Figures  of  every  adjunct  to  the  heavens, 
And  characters  of  signs  and  erring  stars. 
By  which  the  spirits  are  enforc'd  to  rise : 
Then  fear  not,  Faustus,  but  be  resolute, 
And  try  the  uttermost  magic  can  perform. — 

Sint  inihi  dei  Acherontis  propitii  I  Valeat  numen  triplex 
yehovce!  Fgnei,  aerii,  aqiiatani  spiritits^  salvete!  Orient  is 
priiiceps  Belzehub,  iiifhmi  arde?itis  monarcha,  et  Demogorgon, 
propitiamus  vos,  ut  appareat  et  surgat  Mcphistophilis^  quod 
tumeraris;  per  Jehovam^  Geheiinani.,  et  consccratam  aqicani 
qtiam  nunc  spargo,  sigmunque  cruets  quod  7tunc  facio,  et  per 
vota  nostra^  ipse  ntmc  surgat  nobis  dicatus  Mephistophilis  ! 


20  FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 

Enter  Mephistophilis. 

I  charge  thee  to  return,  and  change  thy  shape ; 
Thou  art  too  ugly  to  attend  on  me : 
Go,  and  return  an  old  Franciscan  friar ; 
That  holy  shape  becomes  a  devil  best. 

{Exit  Mephistophilis. 
I  see  there's  virtue  in  my  heavenly  words : 
Who  would  not  be  proficient  in  this  art  ? 
How  pliant  is  this  Mephistophilis, 
Full  of  obedience  and  humility  ! 
Such  is  the  force  of  magic  and  my  spells : 
Now,  Faustus,  thou  art  conjuror  laureat, 
That  canst  command  great  Mephistophilis : 
Qiim  regis  Mephistophilis  fratris  imagine. 

Enter  Mephistophilis  {like  a  Franciscan  friar). 

Meph.  Now,  Faustus,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  do  ? 

Fanst.  I  charge  thee  wait  upon  me  whilst  I  live, 
To  do  whatever  Faustus  shall  command, 
Be  it  to  make  the  moon  drop  from  her  sphere, 
Or  the  ocean  to  overwhelm  the  world. 

Meph.  I  am  a  servant  to  great  Lucifer, 
And  may  not  follow  thee  without  his  leave : 
No  more  than  he  commands  must  we  perform. 

Faust.  Did  not  he  charge  thee  to  appear  to  me? 

jMeph.  No^  I  came  hither  of  mine  own  accord. 


SCENE  III.]  FA  USTUS.  2 1 

Faust,  Did  not  my  conjuring  speeches  raise  thee  ?  speak. 
Meph.  That  was  the  cause,  but  yet  per  accidens  ; 
For,  when  we  hear  one  rack  the  name  of  God, 
Abjure  the  Scriptures  and  his  Saviour  Christ, 
We  fly,  in  hope  to  get  his  glorious  soul ; 
Nor  will  we  come,  unless  he  use  such  means 
Whereby  he  is  in  danger  to  be  damn'd. 
Therefore  the  shortest  cut  for  conjuring 
Is  stoutly  to  abjure  the  Trinity, 
And  pray  devoutly  to  the  prince  of  Hell. 

Faust.  So  Faustus  hath 
Already  done ;  and  holds  this  principle, 
There  is  no  chief  but  only  Belzebub ; 
To  whom  Faustus  doth  dedicate  himself. 
This  word  "damnation"  terrifies  not  him, 
For  he  confounds  hell  in  Elysium  : 
His  ghost  be  with  the  old  philosophers  ! 
But,  leaving  these  vain  trifles  of  men's  souls, 
Tell  me  what  is  that  Lucifer,  thy  Lord  ? 

Meph.  Arch-regent  and  commander  of  all  spirits. 

Faust.  Was  not  that  Lucifer  an  angel  once  ? 

Meph.  Yes,  Faustus,  and  most  dearly  lov'd  of  God. 

Faiist.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  he  is  prince  of  devils? 

Meph.  O,  by  aspiring  pride  and  insolence  ; 
For  which  God  threw  him  from  the  face  of  heaven. 

Faust.  And  what  are  you  that  live  with  Lucifer  ? 

Meph.  Unhappy  spirits  that  fell  with  Lucifer, 


22  FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 

Gonspir'd  against  our  God  with  Lucifer, 
And  are  for  ever  damn'd  with  Lucifer. 

Faust.  Where  are  you  damn'd  ? 
MepJi.  In  hell 

Faust.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  thou  art  out  of  hell? 

Meph.  Why  this  is  hell,  nor  am  I  out  of  it : 
Think'st  thou  that  I,  who  saw  the  face  of  God, 
And  tasted  the  eternal  joys  of  heaven, 
Am  not  tormented  with  ten  thousand  hells, 
In  being  depriv'd  of  everlasting  bliss  ? 
O  Faustus,  leave  these  frivolous  demands. 
Which  strike  a  terror  to  my  fainting  soul ! 

Faust.  What,  is  great  Mephistophilis  so  passionate 
For  being  deprived  of  the  joys  of  heaven  ? 
Learn  thou  of  Faustus  manly  fortitude, 
And  scorn  those  joys  thou  never  shalt  possess. 
Go  bear  these  tidings  to  great  Lucifer : 
Seeing  Faustus  hath  incurr'd  eternal  death 
By  desperate  thoughts  against  Jove's  deity, 
Say,  he  surrenders  up  to  him  his  soul, 
So  he  will  spare  him  four  and  twenty  years, 
Letting  him  live  in  all  voluptuousness  ; 
Having  thee  ever  to  attend  on  me, 
To  give  me  whatsoever  I  shall  ask, 
To  tell  me  whatsoever  I  demand, 
To  slay  mine  enemies,  and  aid  my  friends, 
And  always  be  obedient  to  my  will. 


SCENE  IV.]  FAUSrUS,  23 

Go  and  return  to  mighty  Lucifer, 
And  meet  me  in  my  study  at  midnight, 
And  then  resolve  me  of  thy  master's  mind. 

Meph.  I  will,  Faustus.  \_Exit. 

Faust,  Had  I  as  many  souls  as  there  be  stars, 
I'd  give  them  all  for  Mephistophilis. 
By  him  I'll  be  great  emperor  of  the  world, 
And  make  a  bridge  through  the  moving  air,. 
To  pass  the  ocean  with  a  band  of  men  ; 
I'll  join  the  hills  that  bnid  the  Afric  shore. 
And  make  that  country  continent  to  Spain, 
And  both  contributory  to  my  crown : 
The  Emperor  shall  not  live  but  by  my  leave, 
Nor  any  potentate  of  Germany. 
Now  that  I  have  obtain'd  what  I  desire, 
I'll  live  in  speculation  of  this  art, 
Till  Mephistophilis  return  again.  \Exit. 

Scene  IV. 
Enter  Wagner  and  Clown. 

Wag.  Sirrah,  boy,  come  hither. 

Cloivn.  How,  boy  !  swowns,  boy  !  I  hope  you  have  seen 
many  boys  with  such  pickadevaunts  as  I  have :  boy, 
quotha ! 

Wag.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  hast  thou  any  comings  in  ? 

Cloivn.  Ay,  and  goings  out  too ;  you  may  see  else. 

Wag,  Alas,  poor  slave  !  see  how  poverty  jesteth  in  his 


24  FAUSTUS.  [act  I. 

nakedness  I  the  villain  is  bare  and  out  of  service,  and  so 
hungry,  that  I  know  he  would  give  his  soul  to  the  devil  for 
a  shoulder  of  mutton,  though  it  were  blood-raw. 

Clown.  How  !  my  soul  to  the  devil  for  a  shoulder  of 
mutton,  though  'twere  blood-raw !  not  so,  good  friend ;  by'r 
lady,  I  had  need  have  it  well  roasted,  and  good  sauce  to  it, 
if  I  i^ay  so  dear. 

IVag.  Well,  wilt  thou  serve  me,  and  I'll  make  thee  go 
like  Qui  viihi  discipulus  ? 

Clown.  How,  in  verse  ? 

Wag.  No,  sirrah ;  in  beaten  silk  and  staves-acre.  Take 
these  guilders.  [^Gives  money. 

Clown.  Gridirons  !  what  be  they  ? 

Wag.  Why,  French  crowns. 

Cloivn.  Mass,  but  for  the  name  of  French  crowns,  a  man 
were  as  good  have  as  many  English  counters.  And  what 
should  I  do  with  these  ? 

Wag.  Why,  now,  sirrah,  thou  art  at  an  hour's  warning, 
whensoever  or  wheresoever  the  devil  shall  fetch  thee. 

Clo7vn.  No,  no  ;  here,  take  your  gridirons  again. 

Wag.  Truly,  I'll  none  of  them. 

Clown.  Truly,  but  you  shall. 

Wag.  Bear  witness,  Igave  them  him. 

Clown.  Bear  witness,  I  give  them  you  again. 

Wag.  Well,  I  will  cause  two  devils  presently  to  fetch  thee 
away — Baliol  and  Belcher ! 
•   Clown.  Let  your  Baliol  and  your  Belcher  come  here,  and 


SCEN  E  IV.]  FA  C^S  TUS.  2  5 

I'll  knock  them,  they  were  never  so  knocked  since  they  were 
devils  :  say  I  should  kill  one  of  them,  what  would  folks 
say  ?  "  Do  ye  see  yonder  tall  fellow  in  the  round  slop  ?  he 
has  killed  the  devil,"  So  I  should  be  called  Kill-devil  all 
the  parish  over. 

Enter  two  Devils  ;  and  the  Clown  i'u?is  up  and  dozen 
crying. 

Wag.  Baliol  and  Belcher,— spirits^  away  ! 

[Exeunt  Devils  , 

Cloivn.  What^  are  they  gone?  a  vengeance  on  them  !  they 
have  vile  long  nails.  There  was  a  he-devil  and  a  she  devil  : 
I'll  tell  you  how  you  shall  know  them  ;  all  he-devils  has  horns, 
and  all  she-devils  has  cloven  feet. 

Wag.  Well,  sirrah,  follow  me. 

Clown.  But,  do  you  hear  ?  if  I  should  serve  you,  would 
you  teach  me  to  raise  up  Banios  and  Belcheos  ? 

Wag.  I  will  teach  thee  to  turn  thyself  to  anything,  to  a 
dog,  or  a  cat,  or  a  mouse,  or  a  rat,  or  anything. 

Clown.  How  !  a  Christian  fellow  to  a  dog,  or  a  cat,  a 
mouse,  or  a  rat !  No.  no,  sir  ;  if  you  turn  me  into  anything, 
let  it  be  in  the  likeness  of  a  little  pretty  frisking  flea,  that  I 
maybe  here  and  there  and  everywhere  :  I'll  tickle  the  pretty 
wenches  !  Til  be  amongst  them,  i'  faith  ! 

Wag.  Well,  sirrah,  come. 

Clown.  But,  do  you  hear,  Wagner  ? 

Wag.  How  i — Baliol  and  Belcher  \ 


2,6  FAUSTUS,  [act  II. 

Cloivn.  O  Lord  !  I  pray,  sir,  let  Baliol  and  Belcher  go 
sleep. 

IVag.  Villain,  call  me  Master  Wagner,  and  let  thy  left 
eye  be  diametarily  fixed  upon  my  right  heel,  with  quasi 
Tdesiigiis  nostris  insisiere.  \Exif. 

Clown.  God  forgive  me,  he  speaks  Dutch  fustian.  V/ell, 
I'll  follow  him  ;  I'll  serve  him,  that's  flat.  \Exit, 


ACT  IL 

Scene   I. 

Faustus  discovered  in  his  Study. 

iFcAist.  Nov/,  Faustus,  must  thou  needs  be  damn'd: 
And  canst  thou  not  be  sav'd  ? 
What  boots  it,  then,  to  think  of  God  or  heaven  ? 
Away  with  such  vain  fancies,  and  despair; 
Despair  in  God,  and  trust  in  Belzebub  : 
Now  go  not  backward ;  no,  Faustus,  be  resolute  : 
Why  waver'st  thou  ?     O,  something  soundeth  in  mine  ears, 
''  Abjure  this  magic,  turn  to  God  again  !" 
Ay,  and  Faustus  will  turn  to  God  again. 
To  God  ?     He  loves  thee  not ; 
The  god  thou  serv'st  is  thine  own  appetite, 
Wherein  is  fix'd  the  love  of  Belzebub  : 
To  him  I'll  build  an  altar  and  a  church, 
And  offer  lukewarm  blood  of  new-born  babes. 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  27 

Enter  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel. 

Good  Afig.  Sweet  Faustus,  leave  that  execrable  art. 

Fcmst.  Contrition,  prayer,  repentance — what  of  them? 

Good  Ang.  O,  they  are  means  to  bring  thee  unto  heaven  ! 

Evil  Ang.  Rather  illusions,  fruits  of  lunacy, 
That  make  men  foolish  that  do  trust  them  most. 

Good  Ang.  Sweet  Faustus,  think  of  heaven  and  heavenly 
things. 

Evil  Ang.  No^  Faustus ;  think  of  honour  and  of  v/ealth. 

\Exetint  Angels. 

Faust.  Of  wealth! 
Why,  the  signiory  of  Embden  shall  be  mine. 
When  Mephistophilis  shall  stand  by  me, 
What  God  can  hurt  thee,  Faustus  ?     Thou  art  safe : 
Cast  no  more  doubts. — Come,  Mephistophilis, 
And  bring  glad  tidings  from  great  Lucifer ; — 
Is't  not  midnight  ? — Come,  Mephistophilis, 
Veni^  vent,  Mephistophile. 

Enter  Mephistophilis, 

Now  tell  me  what  sayeth  Lucifer,  thy  lord  ? 

Meph.  That  I  shall  wait  on  Faustus  whilst  he  lives. 
So  he  will  buy  my  service  with  his  soul. 

Faust.  Already  Faustus  hath  hazarded  that  or  thee. 

Meph.  But,  Faustus^  thou  must  bequeath  it  solemnly, 


28  FAUSTUS.  [act  11. 

And  write  a  deed  of  gift  with  thine  own  blood  j 
For  that  security  craves  great  Lucifer. 
If  thou  deny  it,  I  will  back  to  hell. 

Fa2(st.  Stay,  Mephistophilis,  and  tell  me,  what  good 
Will  my  soul  do  thy  lord  ? 

Meph.  Enlarge  his  kingdom. 

Faust.  Is  that  the  reason  why  he  tempts  us  thus  ?  " 

Meph.  Solanien  miseris  socios  hahdsse  doloris. 

Faust.  Why,  have  you  any  pain  that  torture  others? 

Meph.  As  great  as  have  the  human  souls  of  men. 
But,  tell  me,  Faustus,  shall  I  have  thy  soul  ? 
And  I  will  be  thy  slave,  and  wait  on  thee, 
And  give  thee  more  than  thou  hast  wit  to  ask. 

Faust.  Ay,  Mephistophilis,  I  give  it  thee. 

Meph.  Then,  Faustus,  stab  thine  arm  courageously, 
And  bind  thy  soul,  that  at  some  certain  day 
Great  Lucifer  may  claim  it  as  his  own ; 
And  then  be  thou  as  great  as  Lucifer. 

Faust.  [^Stabbing  his  arm.]  Lo,  Mephistophilis,  for  love  of 
thee, 
I  cut  mine  arm,  and  with  my  proper  blood 
Assure  my  soul  to  be  great  Lucifer's, 
Chief  lord  and  regent  of  perpetual  night  ! 
View  here  the  blood  that  trickles  from  mine  arm, 
And  let  it  be  propitious  for  my  wish. 

Meph.  But,  Faustus,  thou  must 
Write  it  in  manner  of  a  deed  of  gift. 


SCENE  i.l  FAUSTUS.  29 

Faust.  Ay,  so  I  will.     [  IVrtles.]     But,  Mephistophilis, 
My  blood  congeals,  and  I  can  write  no  more. 

Meph.  I'll  fetch  thee  fire  to  dissolve  it  straight.        [Exit. 

Faust.  What  might  the  staying  of  my  blood  portend  ^ 
Is  it  unwilling  I  should  write  this  bill  ? 
Why  streams  it  not,  that  I  may  write  afresh  ?  -^ 

Fatistus  gives  to  thee  his  soul :  ah,  there  it  stay'd ! 
Why  should'st  thou  not  ?  is  not  thy  soul  thine  own  ? 
Then  write  again,  Faust  us  gives  to  tJiee  his  soul. 

Re-enier  Mephistophilis  with  a  cJiafer  of  coals, 

Meph.  Here's  fire  ;  come,  Faustus,  set  it  on. 

Faust.  So,  now  the  blood  begins  to  clear  again  ; 
Now  will  I  make  an  end  immediately.  [  Writes. 

Meph.  O,  what  will  not  I  do  to  obtain  his  soul  ?     [Aside. 

Faust.   Co?isummatuni  est,  this  bill  is  ended, 
i^nd  Faustus  hath  bequeathed  his  soul  to  Lucifer. 
But  what  is  this  inscription  on  mine  arm  ? 
Homofuge  :  whither  should  I  flv  ? 
If  unto  God,  he'll  throw  me  down  to  hell. 
My  senses  are  deceiv'd,  here's  nothing  writ  3 — 
I  see  it  plain  ;  here  in  this  place  is  writ, 
Homo  fuge :  yet  shall  not  Faustus  fly. 

Meph.  I'll  fetch  him  som.ewhat  to  delight  his  mind. 

[Aside,  a?id  then  exit. 


so  FAUSTUS,  [act  II. 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis  ivith  Devils,  7v ho  give  crowns  and 
rich  apparel  to  Faustus,  dance^  and  then  depart. 

Faust.  Speak,  Mephistophilis,  what  means  this  show? 

Mepk,  Nothing,  Faustus,  but  to  deHght  thy  mind  withal, 
And  to  shew  thee  what  magic  can  perform. 

Faust.  But  may  I  raise  up  spirits  when  I  please  ? 

Meph.  Ay,  Faustus,  and  do  greater  things  than  these. 

Faust.  Then  there's  enough  for  a  thousand  souls. 
Here,  Mephistophilis,  receive  this  scroll, 
A  deed  of  gift  of  body  and  of  soul : 
But  yet  conditionally  that  thou  perform 
All  articles  prescrib'd  between  us  both  ! 

Meph.  Faustus,  I  swear  by  hell  and  Lucifer 
To  eftect  all  promises  between  us  made. 

Faust.  Then  hear  me  read  them.  \Reads^  On  these 
co7iditions  following.  First,  that  Faustus  may  be  a 
spirit  in  form  and  substance.  Secofidly,  that  Mephis- 
tophilis shall  be  his  serva?it,  and  at  his  command. 
Thirdly^  that  Mephistophilis  shall  do  for  him,  aiid  bring  him 
whatsoever  he  desires.  Fourthly,  that  he  shall  be  in  his 
chamber  or  house  i?ivisible.  Lastly,  that  he  shall  appear  to 
the  said  John  Faustus,  at  all  times,  in  what  form  or  shape 
soever  he  please.  I,  yohn  Faustus  of  Wertenberg,  Doctor,  by 
these  presents,  do  give  both  body  and  soul  to  Lucifer,  prince  of 
the  East,  and  his  minister  Mephistophilis;  and  furthermore 
grant  imto  them,  that,  twenty  four  yeais  being  expired,  the 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  31 

articles  above  written  inviolate,  full  power  to  fetch  or  carry  the 
said  yoh7i  Faiisttis,  body  and  soid^fcsh,  blood,  or  goods,  into 
their  habitation  wheresoever.     By  me,  J^ohn  Faustus. 

Meph.   Speak,   Faustus,    do   you    deliver    this    as    your 
deed? 

Faust.  Ay,  take  it,  and  the  devil  give  thee  good  on't. 

Meph.  Now,  Faustus,  ask  what  thou  wilt. 

Faust.  First  will  I  question  with  thee  about  hell. 
Tell  me,  v/here  is  the  place  that  men  call  hell  ? 

Meph.   Under  the  heavens. 

Faust.  Ay,  but  whereabout  ? 

Meph.  Within  the  bowels  of  these  elements, 
Where  we  are  tortur'd  and  remain  for  ever : 
Hell  hath  no  limits,  nor  is  circumscrib'd 
In  one  self  place ;  for  v/here  we  are  is  hell, 
And  where  hell  is,  must  v/e  ever  be  : 
And,  to  conclude,  when  all  the  vv'orld  dissolves, 
And  every  creature  shall  be  purified. 
All  places  shall  be  hell  that  are  not  heaven. 

Faust.  Come,  I  think,  hell's  a  fable. 

Meph.  Ay,  think  so  still,  till  experience  change  thy  mind. 

Faust.    Why,  think'st  thou,  then,  that  Faustus  shall  be 
damned  ? 

Meph.  Ay,  of  necessity,  for  here's  the  scroll 
Wherein  thou  hast  given  thy  soul  to  Lucifer. 

Faust.  Ay,  and  body  too  :  but  what  of  that  ? 
Think'st  thou  that  Faustus  is  so  fond  to  imagine 


32  FAUSTUS.  [act  II. 

That,  after  this  life,  there  is  any  pain  ? 

Tush,  these  are  trifles  and  mere  old  wives'  tales. 

Mep/i.    But,   Faustus,    I   am  an  instance  to    prove  the 
contrary, 
Tor  I  am  damned,  and  am  now  in  hell. 

Faust.  How !     Now  in  hell  ! 
Nay,  an'  this  be  hell,  I'll  willingly  be  damn'd  here ; 
What !  v/alking,  disputing  !  etc. 
But,  leaving  off  this,  let  me  have  a  wife, 
The  fairest  maid  in  Germany  ; 
For  I  am  wanton  and  lascivious, 
And  cannot  live  without  a  wife. 

Meph.  How  !  a  v*'ife  ! 

I  priihec,  Faustus,  talk  not  of  a  wife. 

Faust.  Nay,  sweet  Mephistophilis,  fetch  me  one  ; 
For  I  will  have  one. 

Aleph.  Well,  thou  wilt  have  one  ?     Sit  there  till  I  come  : 
ril  fetch  thee  a  wife  in  the  devil's  name.  \^Exit, 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis  with  a  Devil  drest  like  a  womaji^ 
witJi  fireivorks. 

Meph.  Tell  me,  Faustus,  how  dost  thou  like  thy  wife  ? 

Faust.  A  plague  on  her  .... 

Meph.  Tut,  Faustus, 
Marriage  is  but  a  ceremonial  toy ; 
If  thou  lovest  me,  think  no  more  of  it. 


SCENE  1.]  FAUSTUS,  ,      ss 

She  whom  thine  eye  shall  like,  thy  heart  shall  have, 

Be  she  as  cha  steas  was  Penelope, 

As  wise  as  Saba,  or  as  beautiful 

As  was  bright  Lucifer  before  his  fall. 

Hold,  take  this  book,  peruse  it  thorouglily :        [Gives  hook. 

The  iterating  of  these  lines  brings  gold  ; 

The  framing  of  this  circle  on  the  ground 

Brings  whirlwinds,  tempests,  thunder,  and  lightning. 

Pronounce  this  thrice  devoutly  to  thyself, 

And  men  in  armour  shall  appear  to  thee, 

Ready  to  execute  what  thou  desir'st. 

Faust.  Thanks,  Mephistophilis  :  yet  fain  would  I  have  a 
book  wherein  I  might  behold  all  spells  and  incantations, 
that  I  might  raise  up  spirits  when  I  please. 

Meph.  Here  they  are  in  this  book.  [7>;;7w  to  them. 

Paicst.  Now  would  I  have  a  book  where  I  might  see  all 
characters  and  planets  of  the  heavens,  that  I  might  know 
their  motions  and  dispositions. 

Mep/i.  Here  they  are  too.  [Turns  ^o  them. 

Faust.  Nay,  let  me  have  one  book  more, — and  then  I 
have  done, — wherein  I  might  see  all  plants,  herbs,  and 
trees,  that  grow  upon  the  earth. 

Meph.  Here  they  be.  ^ 

Faust.  O,  thou  art  deceived. 

Meph,  Tut,  I  warrant  thee,  [Turns  to  them. 


34  FAUSTUS.  [act  ii. 

Scene  II. 
E7iter  Faustus  and  Mephistophilis. 

Faust.  When  I  behold  the  heavens,  then  I  repent, 
And  curse  thee,  wicked  Mephistophilis, 
Because  thou  hast  depriv'd  me  of  those  joys. 

Meph.  Why,  Faustus^ 
Thinkest  thou  heaven  is  such  a  glorious  thing  ? 
I  tell  thee,  'tis  not  half  so  fair  as  thou, 
Or  any  man  that  breathes  on  earth. 

Faust.  Hova^  prov'st  thou  that  ? 

Meph.  'Twas  made  for  man,  therefore  is  man  more  ex- 
cellent. 

Faust.  If  it  were  made  for  man,  'twas  made  for  me ; 
1  will  renounce  this  magic,  and  repent. 

Enttr  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel. 

Good  Ang.  Faustus,  repent ;  yet  God  will  pity  thee* 
Evil  Ang.  Thou  art  a  spirit ;  God  cannot  pity  thee* 
Faust.  Who  buzzeth  iii  mine  ears  I  am  a  spirit  ? 

Be  I  a  devil,  yet  God  may  pity  me  ; 

Ay,  God  will  pity  me,  if  I  repent. 

Evil  Ang.  Ay,  but  Faustus  never  shall  repent. 

\Exeunt  Angels, 
Faust.  My  heart's  so  hardened  I  cannot  repent ; 

Scarce  can  I  name  salvation,  faith,  or  heaven, 

But  fearful  echoes  thunder  in  mine  ears 


SCENE  II.]  FAUSTUS.  '  35 

"  Faustus,  thou  art  damn'd  ! "  then  swords,  and  knives, 

Poison,  guns,  halters,  and  envenom'd  steel 

Are  laid  before  me  to  despatch  myself; 

And  long  ere  this  I  should  have  slain  rqyself, 

Had  not  sweet  pleasure  conquered  deep  despair. 

Have  not  I  made  blind  Homer  sing  to  me 

Of  Alexander's  love,  and  CEnon's  death  ? 

And  hath  not  he,  that  built  the  walls  of  Thebes, 

With  ravishing  sound  of  his  melodious  harp, 

Made  music  with  my  MephistophiUs  ? 

Why  should  I  die,  then,  or  basely  despair? 

I  am  resolv'd  ;  Faustus  shall  ne'er  repent. — 

Come,  Mephistophilis,  let  us  dispute  again. 

And  argue  of  divine  .astrology. 

Tell  me,  are  there  many  heavens  above  the  moon  ? 

Are  all  celestial  bodies  but  one  globe, 

As  is  the  substance  of  this  centric  earth  ? 

Meph.  As  are  the  elements,  such  are  the  spheres, 
Mutually  folded  in  each  other's  orb, 
And,  Faustus, 

All  jointly  move  upon  one  axletree, 
Whose  terminine  is  termed  the  world's  wide  pole : 
Nor  are  the  names  of  Saturn,  Mars,  or  Jupiter 
Feign'd,  but  are  erring  stars. 

Faust.  But,   tell  me,  have  they  all  one  motion,  both  situ 
et  fefnpore  ? 

Meph.  All  jointly  move  from  east  to  west  in  twenty-four 

B2 


6  FA  USTUS.  [act  [i. 


hours  upon  the  poles  of  the  world  ;  but  differ  in  their  motion 
upon  the  poles  of  the  zodiac. 

Faust.  Tush,  these  slender  trifles  Wagner  can  decide  : 
Hath  Mephistophilis  no  greater  skill  ? 
Who  knows  not  the  double  motion  of  the  planets  ? 
The  first  is  finish'd  in  a  natural  day  \ 

The  second  thus  ;  as  Saturn  in  thirty  years,  Jupiter  in  twelve; 
Mars  in  four  ;  the  Sun,  Venus,  and  Mercury  in  a  year ;  the 
Moon  in  twenty-eight  days.  Tush,  these  are  freshmen's 
suppositions.  But,  tell  me,  hath  every  sphere  a  dominion 
or  inielligeniia  ? 

MepJu  Ay. 

Faust.  How  many  heavens  or  spheres  are  there  ? 

Meph.  Nine  ;  the  seven  planets,  the  firmament,  and  the 
empyreal  heaven. 

Faust.  Well,  resolve  me  in  this  question ;  why  have  we 
not  conjunctions,  oppositions,  aspects,  eclipses,  all  at  one 
time,  but  in  some  years  we  have  more,  in  some  less  ? 

Meph.  Per  incEqiialem  uwtipn  respeciit  iotius. 

Faust.  Well,  I  am  answered.  Tell  me  who  made  the 
world  ? 

Meph.  I  will  not. 

Faust.  Sweet  Mephistophilis,  tell  me. 

Meph.  Move  me  not,  for  I  will  not  tell  thee. 

Faust.  Villain,  have  not  I  bound  thee  to  tell  me  anything  ? 

Meph.  Ay,  that  is  not  against  our  kingdom ;  but  this  is. 
Thmk  thou  on  hell,  Faustus,  for  thou  art  damned. 


SCENE  il]  FAUSTUS.  37 

Faust.  Think,  Faustus,  upon  God  that  made  the  v/orld. 

Meph.  Remember  this.  [ZT.wV. 

Faust.  Ay  !  go,  accursed  spirit,  to  ugly  hell ! 
'Tis  thou  hast  damn'd  distressed  Faustus'  soul ! 
Is't  not  too  late  ? 

Re-entei'  Good  Angel  and  Evil  Angel. 
Evil  Aug.  Too  late. 

Good  Aug.  Never  too  late,  if  Faustus  can  repent. 
Evil  Aug.  If  thou  repent,  devils  shall  tear  thee  in  pieces. 
Good'  Aug.  Repent,  and  they  shall  never  raze  thy  skin, 

\Exeiint  Angels. 
Faust.  Ah,  Christ,  my  Saviour, 
Seek  to  save  distressed  Faustus'  soul ! 

Enter  Lucifer,  Belzebub,  ^;z// Mephistophilis. 

Luc.  Christ  cannot  save  thy  soul,  for  he  is  just  : 
There's  none  but  I  have  interest  in  the  same. 

Faust.  O,  who  art  thou  that  look'st  so  terrible  .? 

Luc.  I  am  Lucifer ; 
And  this  is  my  companion-prince  in  Hell. 

Faust.  O,  Faustus,  they  are  come  to  fetch  away  thy  soul ! 

Luc.  We  come  to  tell  thee  thou  dost  injure  us ; 
Thou  talk'st  of  Christ,  contrary  to  thy  promise  : 
Thou  shouldst  not  think  of  God  :   think  of  the  devil, 
And  of  his  dam  too. 

Faust.  Nor  will  I  henceforth  :    pardon  me  in  this. 


38  FAUSTUS.  [act  ii. 

And  Faiistus  vows  never  to  look  to  heaven, 
Never  to  name  God,  or  to  pray  to  him, 
To  burn  his  Scriptures,  slay  his  ministers, 
And  make  my  spirits  pull  his  churches  down. 

Luc.  Do  so,  and  we  will  highly  gratify  thee.    Faustus,  we 
are  come  from  hell,  to  shew  thee  some  pastime  :   sit  down, 
.  and  thou  shalt  see  all  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins  appear  in  their 
proper  shapes. 

Faust,  That  sight  will  be  as  pleasing  unto  me, 
As  Paradise  was  to  Adam,  the  first  day 
Of  his  creation. 

Ltic.  Talk  not  of  Paradise  nor  creation ;  but  mark  this 
show  :   talk  of  the  devil  and  nothing  else. — Come  away ! 

Enter  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins. 

Now,  Faustus,  examine  them  of  their  several  names  and 
dispositions. 

Faust.  What  art  thou,  the  first  ? 

Pride.  I  am  Pride  :  I  disdain  to  have  any  parents.  Some- 
times, like  a  perriwig,  I  sit  upon  a  wench's  brow;  or,  like 
a  fan  of  feathers,  I  kiss  her  lips  ;  indeed,  I  do — what 
do  I  not  ?  But,  fie,  what  a  scent  is  here  ?  I'll  not  speak 
another  word  except  the  ground  were  perfumed,  and  covered 
with  cloth  of  arras. 

Faust.  What  art  thou,  the  second  ? 

Covet.  I  am  Covetousness,  begotten  of  an  old  churl,  in  an 
old  leathern  bag  :  and,  might  I  have  my  wish,  I  would  desire 


SCENE  II.]  FAUSTUS,  39 

that  this  house  and  all  the  people  in  it  were  turned  to  gold, 
that  I  might  lock  you  up  in  my  good  chest.  O,  my  sweet 
gold! 

Faust.  What  art  thou,  the  third  ? 

Wrath.  I  am  Wrath  j  I  had  neither  father  nor  mother  :  I 
leapt  out  of  a  lion's  mouth  when  I  was  scarce  half-an-hour 
old ;  and  ever  since  I  have  run  up  and  down  the  world  with 
this  case  of  rapiers,  wounding  myself  when  I  had  nobody  to 
fight  withal.  I  was  born  in  hell ;  and  look  to  it,  for  some 
of  you  shall  be  my  father. 

Faust.  What  art  thou,  the  fourth? 

Envy.  I  am  Envy,  begotten  of  a  chimney-sweeper  and  an 
oyster-wife.  I  cannot  read,  and  therefore  wish  all  books 
were  burnt.  I  am  lean  with  seeing  others  eat.  O,  that 
there  would  come  a  famine  through  all  the  world,  that  all 
might  die,  and  I  live  alone  !  Then  thou  shouldst  see  how  fat 
I  would  be.  But  must  thou  sit,  and  I  stand  ?  come  down, 
with  a  vengeance  I 

Faust.  Away,  envious  rascal!— What  art  thou,  the  fifth? 

Glut.  Who,  I5  sir?  I  am  Gluttony.  My  parents  are  all 
dead,  and  the  devil  a  penny  they  have  left  me ;  but  a  bare 
pension,  and  that  is  thirty  meals  a  day  and  ten  bevers, — a 
small  trifle  to  suffice  nature.  O,  I  come  of  a  royal  parent- 
age !  my  grandfather  was  a  Gammon  of  Bacon,  my  grand- 
mother a  Hogshead  of  Claret-wine;  my  godfathers  were 
these,  Peter  Pickle-herring  and  Martin  Martlemas-beef ;  O, 
but  my  godmother,  she  was  a  jolly  gentlewoman,  and  well- 


40  FAUSTUS.  [act  II. 

beloved  in  every  good  town  and  city ;  her  name  was 
Mistress  Margery  March-beer.  Now,  Faustus,  thou  hast 
heard  all  my  progeny;  wilt  thou  bid  me  to  supper? 

Faust.  No,  ril  see  thee  hanged  ;  thou  wilt  eat  up  all  my 
victuals. 

Glut.  Then  the  devil  choke  thee  ! 

Faust.  Choke  thyself,  glutton ! — What  art  thou^  the  sixth? 

Sloth.  I  am  Sloth.  I  was  begotten  on  a  sunny  bank, 
where  I  have  lain  ever  since ;  and  you  have  done  me  great 
injury  to  bring  me  from  thence  :  let  me  be  carried  thither 
again  by  Gluttony  and  Lechery.  I'll  not  speak  another 
vrord  for  a  king's  ransom. 

-  Faust.  V/hat  are  you.  Mistress  Minx,  the  seventh  and 
last? 

Lechery.  Who,  I,  sir?  The  first  letter  of  my  name  begins 
with  L. 

Luc.  Away,  to  hell,  to  hell !  \_Exe2mt  the  Sins* 

Luc.  Now,  Faustus,  how  dost  thou  like  this? 

Faust.  O,  this  feeds  my  soul ! 

Luc.  Tut,  Faustus,  in  hell  is  all  manner  of  delight. 

Faust.  O,  might  I  see  hell,  and  return  again. 
How  happy  were  I  then  ! 

LiLc.  Thou  shalt;  I  will  send  for  thee  at  midnight. 
In  meantime  take  this  book ;  peruse  it  thoroughly, 
And  thou  shalt  turn  thyself  into  what  shape  thou  wilt 

Faust.  Great  thanks,  mighty  Lucifer  ! 
This  will  I  keep  as  chary  as  my  life. 


SCENE   1.]  FAUSTUS.  41 

Luc.  Farewell,  Faustus,  and  think  on  the  devil. 
Faust.  Farewell,  great  Lucifer. 

\Exeunt  Lucifer  and  Belzebup,. 
Come,  Mephistophilis.  \Exeunt. 

ACT  IIL 

Efifcr  Chorus. 

C/ior.  Learned  Faustus, 
To  know  the  secrets  of  astronomy, 
Graven  in  the  book  of  Jove's  high  firmament, 
Did  mount  himself  to  scale  Olympus'  top. 
Being  seated  in  a  chariot  burning  bright, 
Drawn  by  the  strength  of  yoked  dragons'  necks. 
He  now  is  gone  to  prove  cosmography, 
And,  as  I  guess,  will  first  arrive  at  Rome, 
To  see  the  Pope  and  manner  of  his  court, 
And  take  some  part  of  Holy  Peter's  feast, 
That  to  this  day  is  highly  solemniz'd.  [Exit. 

Scene  L 
Enter  Faustus  a?id  Mephistophilis. 
i^aust.  Having  now,  my  good  Mephistophilis, 
Pass'd  with  delight  the  stately  town  of  Trier, 
Environ'd  round  with  airy  mountain-tops. 
With  walls  of  flint,  and  deep-entrenched  lakes, 
Not  to  be  won  by  any  conquering  Prince  ; 
From  Paris  next,  coasting  the  realm  of  France, 


42  ^  FAUSTUS.  .  [act  III. 

We  saw  the  river  Maine  fall  into  Rhine, 

Whose  banks  are  set  with  groves  of  fruitful  vines  ; 

Then  up  to  Naples,  rich  Campania, 

Whose  buildings  fair  and  gorgeous  to  the  eye, 

The  streets  straight  forth,  and  pav'd  with  finest  brick, 

Quarter  the  town  in  four  equivalents  : 

There  saw  we  learned  Maro's  golden  tomb, 

The  way  he  cut,  an  English  mile  in  length, 

Through  a  rock  of  stone,  in  one  night's  space. 

From  thence  to  Venice,  Padua,  and  the  rest. 

In  one  of  which  a  sumptuous  temple  stands, 

That  threats  the  stars  with  her  aspiring  top. 

Thus  hitherto  hath  Faustus  spent  his  time  : 

But  tell  me  now,  what  resting-place  is  this  ? 

Hast  thou,  as  erst  I  did  command, 

Conducted  me  within  the  walls  of  Rome  ? 

Meph.  Faustus,  I  have;  and  because  we  will  not  be 
unprovided,  I  have  taken  up  his  Holiness'  privy-chamber 
for  our  use. 

Faust.  I  hope  his  Holiness  will  bid  us  welcom.e. 
Meph.  Tut,  'tis  no  matter,  man ;  we'll  be  bold  with  his 
good  cheer. 
And  now,  my  Faustus,  that  thou  mayst  perceive 
What  Rome  containeth  to  delight  thee  with, 
Know  that  this  city  stands  upon  seven  hills, 
That  underprop  the  groundwork  of  the  same  : 
Just  through  the  midst  runs  flowing  Tiber's  stream, 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  43 

With  winding  banks  that  cut  it  in  two  parts ; 
Over  the  which  four  stately  bridges  lean, 
That  make  safe  passage  to  each  part  of  Rome. 
Upon  the  bridge,  call'd  Ponte  Angelo, 
Erected  is  a  castle  passing  strong, 
Within  whose  walls  such  store  ot  ordnance  are, 
And  double  cannons  fram'd  of  carved  brass, 
As  match  the  days  within  one  complete  year  j 
Besides  the  gates,  and  high  pyramides, 
Which  Julius  Caesar  brought  from  Africa. 

Faust,  Now,  by  the  kingdoms  of  infernal  rule, 
Of  Styx,  of  Acheron,  and  the  fiery  lake 
Of  ever-burning  Phlegethon,  I  swear 
That  I  do  long  to  see  the  monuments 
And  situation  of  bright-splendent  Rome ; 
Come,  therefore,  let's  away. 

Meph.  Nay,  Faustus,  stay :    I  know  you'd  fain  see  the 
Pope, 
And  take  some  part  of  holy  Peter's  feast, 
Where  thou  shalt  see  a  troop  of  bald-pate  friars, 
Whose  sumimun  honwn  is  in  belly-cheer. 

Faust.  Well,  I'm  content  to  compass  them  some  sport, 
And  by  their  folly  make  us  merriment ; 
Then  charm  me,  that  I  may  be  invisible 
To  do  what  I  please, 
Unseen  of  any  whilst  I  stay  in  Rome. 

[Mephistophilis  charms  him. 


44  FAUST  US.  [act  iii. 

Meph.  So,  Fauslus ;  now 
Uo  what  thou  wilt,  thou  shalt  not  be  discern'd. 

Sound  a  Sotuiet.     Enter  the  Pope  and  the   Cardinal  of 
LoRRAiN  to  the  l?anquet^  with  Friars  attending. 

Pope.  My  Lord  of  Lorrain,  will't  please  you  draw  near  ? 

Faust.  Fall  to,  and  tlie  devil  choke  you,  an'  you  spare. 

Pope.  How  now !  who's  that  which  spake  ?     Friars,  look 
about. 

First  Friar.  Here's  nobody,  if  it  like  your  Holiness. 

Pope.  My  lord,  here  is  a  dainty  dish  was  sent  me  from  the 
Bishop  of  Milan. 

Faust.  I  thank  you,  sir.  [Snatches  the  dish. 

Pope.  How  now  !  who's  that  which  snatched  the  meat  from 
me?  will  no  man  look? — My  lord,  this  dish  was  sent  me 
from  the  Cardinal  of  Florence. 

Faust.  You  say  true  ;  I'll  hat.  \Snatches  the  dish. 

Pope.  What,  again  ! — My  lord,  FU  drink  to  your  Grace. 

Faust.  I'll  pledge  your  Grace.  \Snatches  the  cup. 

C.  of  Lor.  My  lord,  it  may  be  some  ghost,  newly  crept  out 
of  Purgatory,  come  to  beg  a  pardon  of  your  Holiness. 

Fope.  It  may  be  so. — Friars,  prepare  a  dirge  to  lay  the 
fury  of  this  ghost. — Once  again,  my  lord,  fall  to. 

\_The  Pope  crosses  himself. 

Faust.  What,  are  you  crossing  of  yourself? 
Well,  use  that  trick  no  more,  I  would  advise  you. 

\2he  Pope  crosses  himself  again. 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  45 

Well,  there's  the  second  time.     Aware  the  third ; 
I  give  you  fair  warning. 

[The  Pope  crosses  himself  agaifi,  and  Faustus  hits  him 
a  box  of  the  ear ;  and  they  all  run  away. 
Come  on,  Mephistophilis ;  what  shall  we  do  ? 

Meph.  Nay,  I  know  not  :   we  shall  be  cursed  with  bell, 
book,  and  candle.  [bell, — 

Faust.  How!  bell,  book,  and  candle, — candle,  book,  and 
Forward  and  backward,  to  curse  Faustus  to  hell ! 
Anon  you  shall  hear  a  hog  grunt,  a  calf  bleat,  and  an  ass  bray, 
Because  it  is  Saint  Peter's  holiday. 

Re-enter  all  the  Friars  to  sing  the  Dirge. 

First  Friar.  Come,  brethren,  let's  about  our  business  with 
good  devotion.  \_They  sing. 

Cursed  be  he  that  stole  away  his  Holiness'  meat  from  the  table  !' 

maledicat  Dominus ! 
Cursed  be  he  that  struck  his   Holiness  a  blow  on  the  face  ! 

maledicat  Dominus  ! 

Cursed  be  he  that  took  Friar  Sandelo  a  blow  on  the  pate  I 

maledicat  Dominus  !  [Dominus  1 

Cursed  be   he   that  disturbeth   our  holy   dirge  I    maledicat 

Cursed  be  he  that  took  aivay  his  Holiness'  ivine  f  maledicat 

Dominus ! 

Et  omnes  Sancti  1  Amen  ! 
[Mephistophilis  a^id  Falstus  beat  the  Friars,  and 
fing  fire-works  among  them  ;  and  so  exeunt. 


46  FAUSTUS.  [act  IV. 

ACT  IV. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Chor.  When  Faustus    had    with   pleasure    ta'en^  the 
view 
Of  rarest  things,  and  royal  courts  of  kings, 
He  stay'd  his  course,  and  so  returned  home ; 
Where  such  as  bear  his  absence  but  with  grief, 
I  mean  his  friends  and  near'st  companions, 
Did  gratulate  his  safety  with  kind  words, 
And  in  their  conference  of  what  befell, 
Touching  his  journey  through  the  world  and  air, 
They  put  forth  questions  of  astrology. 
Which  Faustus  answer'd  with  such  learned  skill . 
As  they  admir'd  and  wonder'd  at  his  wit. 
Now  is  his  fame  spread  forth  in  every  land; 
Amongst  the  rest  the  Emperor  is  one, 
Carolus  the  Fifth,  at  whose  palace  now 
Faustus  is  feasted  'mongst  his  noblemen. 
What  there  he  did,  in  trial  of  his  art, 
I  leave  untold ;  your  eyes   shall  see['t]  perform'd. 

[Exit 
Scene  I. 

E?tier  Robin,  the  Ostler,  with  a  hook  in  his  hand. 

Rohin.  O,  this  is  admirable  !  here  I  ha'  stolen  one  of 


SCENE  I.]  FAVSTUS.  47 

Doctor  Faustus'  conjuring  books,  and,  iTaitli,  I  mean  to 
search  some  circles  for  my  own  use. 

Enter  Ralph,  calling  Robin. 

Ralph.  Robin,  prithee,  come  away ;  there's  a  gentleman 
tarries  to  have  his  horse,  and  he  would  have  his  things 
rubbed  and  made  clean :  he  keeps  such  a  chafing  with  my 
mistress  about  it ;  and  she  has  sent  me  to  look  thee  out ; 
prithee,  come  away. 

Robin.  Keep  out,  keep  out,  or  else  you  are  blown  up,  you 
are  dismembered,  Ralph :  keep  out,  for  I  am  about  a  roaring 
piece  of  work. 

Ralph.  Come,  what  doest  thou  with  that  same  book? 
thou  canst  not  read  ? 

Robin.  Yes,  my  master  and  mistress  shall  find  that  I  can 
read. 

Ralph.  Why,  Robin,  what  book  is  that  ? 

Robin.  What  book  !  why,  the  most  intolerable  book  for 
conjuring  that  e'er  was  invented  by  any  brimstone  devil. 

Ralph.  Canst  thou  conjure  with  it  ? 

Robin.  I  can  do  all  these  things  easily  with  it ;  first,  I  can 
make  thee  drunk  with  ippocras  at  any  tabern  in  Europe  for 
nothing ;  that's  one  of  my  conjuring  works. 

Ralph.  Our  Master  Parson  says  that's  nothing. 

Robin.  True,  Ralph :  and  more,  Ralph,  if  thou  hast 
any  mind  to  Nan  Spit,  our  kitchen-maid^  thou  shalt  have 
her. 


48  FAUSTUS.  [act  iv. 

Ralph.  O,  brave,  Robin  !  shall  I  have  Nan  Spit  ?  On 
that  condition  I'll  feed  thy  devil  with  horse-bread  as  long 
as  he  lives,  of  free  cost. 

Kobin.  No  more,  sweet  Ralph  :  let's  go  and  make  clean 
our  boots,  which  lie  foul  upon  our  hands,  and  then  to  our 
conjuring  in  the  devil's  name.  [  Examt- 


Scene  II. 

^;//<?/"  Robin  and  Ralph  with  a  silver  goblet. 

Robin.  Come,  Ralph  !  did  not  I  tell  thee,  we  were  for 
ever  made  by  this  Doctor  Faustus' book  ?  ecce^  sigmunl  here's 
a  simple  purchase  for  horse-keepers;  our  horses  shall  eat  no 
hay  as  long  as  this  lasts. 

Ralph.  But,  Robin,  here  comes  the  Vintner. 

Robin.  Hush  !  I'll  gull  him  supernaturally. 

Enter  Vintner. 

Drawer,  I  hope  all  is  paid ;   God  be  with   you  ! — Come, 
Ralph. 

Vint.  Soft,   sir ;  a  word  with  you.     I  must  yet  have  a 
goblet  paid  from  you,  ere  you  go. 

Robin.  I  a  goblet,  Ralph,  I  a  goblet  ! — I  scorn  you ;  and 
you  are  but  a,  &c.      I  a  goblet !  search  me. 

Vint.  I  mean  so,  sir,  with  your  favour. 

\^SearcJies  Robin. 


SCENE  1 1. 1  FAUsrus. 


49 


Rohi7i.  How  say  you  now  ? 

Vini.  I  must  say  somewhat  to  your  fellow. — You,  sir! 

Ralph.  Me,  sir  !  me,  sir !  search  your  fill.  [Vintner 
searches  Jiim.\  Now,  sir,  you  may  be  ashamed  to  burden 
honest  men  with  a  ma4;ter  of  truth. 

Vint.  Well,  tone  of  you  hath  this  goblet  about  you. 

Rohiii.  You  lie,  drawer,  'tis  afore  me  [Aside]. — Sirrah  you, 
I'll  teach  you  to  impeach  honest  men  ; — stand  by  ; — I'll 
scour  you  for  a  goblet ; — stand  aside  you  had  best,  I  charge 
you  in  the  name  of  Eelzebub. — Look  to  the  goblet,  Ralph 
[Aside  to  Ralph]. 

Vint.  What  mean  you,  sirrah  ? 

Robin.  I'll  tell  you  v/hat  I  mean.  [Reads  from  a  book.] 
Saridobulorum  FeripJirasticon — nay,  I'll  tickle  you.  Vintner. 
— Look  to  the  goblet,  Ralph  [Aside  to  Ralph]. — [Reads] 
Polypragmos  Belseborains  framanto  pacostiphos  tostu,  MepJiis- 
tophilis,  &c. 

Enter  Mephistophilis,  sets  squibs  at  their  backs,  and  then 
exit.     TJiey  run  about. 

Vint.  O,  nomine  Domini !  what  meanest  thou,  Robin  ? 
thou  hast  no  goblet, 

Ralph.  Peccatum  peccatorum  I — Here's  thy  goblet,  good 
Vintner.  [Gives  the  goblet  to  Vintner,  laho  exit. 

Robin.  Misericordia  pro  7iobis  I  what  shall  I  do  ?  Good 
devil,  forgive  me  now,  and  I'll  never  rob  thy  library 
more. 


50  FAUSTUS,  [act  IV 

He-enter  Mephistophilis. 

Meph.  Monarch  of  hell,  under  whose  black  survey 
Great  potentates  do  kneel  with  awful  fear, 
Upon  whose  altars  thousand  souls  do  lie, 
How  am  I  vexed  with  these  villains'  charms  ? 
From  Constantinople  am  I  hither  come, 
Only  for  pleasure  of  these  damned  slaves. 

Rohi7i.  How,  from  Constantinople  !  you  have  had  a  great 
journey  :  will  you  take  sixpence  in  your  purse  to  pay  for 
your  supper,  and  be  gone  ? 

Meph.  Well,  villains,  for  your  presumption,  I  transform 
thee  into  an  ape,  and  thee  into  a  dog ;  and  so  begone. 

\Exit, 

Robin.  How,  into  an  ape  !  that's  brave  :  I'll  have  fine 
sport  with  the  boys ;  I'll  get  nuts  and  apples  enow. 

Ralph.  And  I  must  be  a  dog. 

Robin.  I'faith,  thy  head  will  never  be  out  of  the  pottage- 
pot.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 
Enter  Emperor,  Faustus,  a?id  a  Knight,  tvith 
Attendants. 
Enip.  Master  Doctor  Faustus,  I  have  heard  strange  re- 
port of  thy  knowledge  in  the  black  art,  how  that  none  in 
my  empire  nor  in  the  whole  world  can  compare  with  thee 
for  the  rare  effects  of  magic  :  they  say  thou  hast  a  familiar 
spirit,  by  whom  thou  canst  accomplish  what  thou  list.  This 


■  SCENE  III.]  FA  US TC/S,  5 1 

therefore,  is  my  request,  that  thou  let  me  see  some  proof  of 
thy  skill,  that  mine  eyes  may  be  witnesses  to  confirm  what 
mine  ears  have  heard  reported  :  and  here  I  swear  to  thee, 
by  the  honour  of  mine  imperial  crown,  that,  whatever 
thou  doest,  thou  shalt  be  no  ways  prejudiced  or  endamaged. 

Ktiight^  Tfaith  he  looks  much  like  a  conjuror.        \Aside. 

Faust.  My  gracious  sovereign,  though  I  must  confess 
myself  far  inferior  to  the  report  men  have  published,  and 
nothing  answerable  to  the  honour  of  your  imperial  majesty, 
yet,  for  that  love  and  duty  binds  me  thereunto,  I  am 
content  to  do  whatsoever  your  majesty  shall  command  me. 

Emp.  Then,  Doctor  Faustus,  mark  what  I  shall  say. 
As  I  was  sometime  solitary  set 
Within  my  closet,  sundry  thoughts  arose 
About  the  honour  of  mine  ancestors, 
How  they  had  won  by  prowess  such  exploits, 
Got  such  riches,  subdu'd  so  many  kingdoms, 
As  we  that  do  succeed,  or  they  that  shall 
Hereafter  possess  our  throne,  shall 
(I  fear  me)  ne'er  attain  to  that  degree 
Of  high  renown  and  great  authority : 
Amongst  which  kings  is  Alexander  the  Great, 
Chief  spectacle  of  the  world's  pre-eminence. 
The  bright  shining  of  whose  glorious  acts 
Lightens  the  world  with  his  reflecting  beams, 
As  when  I  hear  but  motion  made  of  him, 
It  grieves  my  soul  I  never  saw  the  man. 


52  FAUSTUS,  [act  IV. 

If,  therefore,  thou,  by  cunning  of  thine  art, 
Canst  raise  this  man  from  hollow  vaults  below, 
Where  lies  entomb'd  this  famous  conqueror, 
And  bring  with  him  his  beauteous  paramour, 
Both  in  their  right  shapes,  gesture,  and  attire 
They  us'd  to  wear  during  their  time  of  life, 
Thou  shalt  both  satisfy  my  just  desire, 
And  give  me  cause  to  praise  thee  whilst  I  live. 

Fausi.  My  gracious  lord,  I  am  ready  to  accomplish  your 
request,  so  far  forth  as  by  art  and  power  of  my  spirit  I  am 
able  to  perform. 

Knight.  I'faith,  thafs  just  nothing  at  all.  '  \Aside. 

Faust.  But,  if  it  like  your  Grace,  it  is  not  in  my  ability  to 
present  before  your  eyes  the  true  substantial  bodies  of  those 
two  deceased  princes,'  which  long  since  a-re  consumed  to 
dust. 

Knight.  Ay,  marry,  Master  Doctor,  now  there's  a  sign  of 
grace  in  you,  when  you  will  confess  the  truth.  \Aside. 

FiVist.  But  such  spirits  as  can  lively  resemble  Alexander 
and  his  paramour  shall  appear  before  your  Grace,  in  that 
manner  that  they  both  Hved  in,  in  their  -most  flourishing 
estate;  which  I  doubt  not  shall  sufficiently  content  your 
imperial  majesty. 

Evip.  Go  to.  Master  Doctor  ;  let  me  see  tliem  presently. 

Knight.  Do  you  hear,  Master  Doctor?  you  bring  Alex- 
ander and  his  paramour  before  the  Emperor! 

Faust.  Hov\^>then,  sir? 


SCENE  ni.]  FAUSTUS.  ■        53 

lOiig/if.  I'faith,  that's  as  true  as  Diana  turned  me  to  a 
stag. 

Fausf.  No,  sir;  but,  when  Actxon  died,  he  left  the  horns 
for  you. — MephistophiUs,  begone. 

\Exit  Mephistophilis. 
Knight.  Nay,  an'  you  go  to  conjuring,  I'll  begone. 

{Exit. 
Faust.  I'll  meet  with  you  anon  for  interrupting  me  so. — 
Here  they  are,  my  gracious  lord.  / 

! 
Re-enter  Mephistophilis,  with  Spirits   in   the  shapes  of 

Alexander  and  his  Paramour.  j 

Emp.  "Master  Doctor,  T  heard  this  lady,  Avhile  she  lived, 
had  a  wart  or  mole  in  her  neck  :  how  shall  I  know  whether 
it  be  so  or  no  ?  « 

Faust.  Your  highness  may  boldly  go  and  see. 

Evip.  Sure  these  are  no  spirits,  but  the  true  substantial 
bodies  of  those  two  deceased  princes.  \_Exeunt  Spirits. 

Faust.  Wilt  please  your  highness  now  to  send  for  the 
knight  that  was  so  pleasant  with  me  here  of  late  ? 

Emp.  One  of  you  call  him  forth.  \Exit  Attendant. 

Re-enter  the  Knight,  ivith  a  pair  of  horns  on  his  head. 


How  now,  sir  knight !     Feel  on  thy  head. 

Knight.  Thou  damned  wretch  and  cxecral 
Bred  in  the  concave  of  some  monstrous  rock 


54  FAUSTUS.  [act  IV. 

How  dar'st  thou  thus  abuse  a  gentleman  ? 
Villain,  I  say,  undo  what  thou  hast  done  ! 

Fatist.  O,  not  so  fast,  sir !  there's  no  haste :  but,  good, 
are  you  remembered  how  you  crossed  me  in  my  conference 
with  the  Emperor  ?     I  think  I  have  met  with  you  for  it. 

Fvip.  Good  Master  Doctor,  at  my  entreaty  release  him : 
he  hath  done  penance  sufficient. 

Faust  My  gracious  lord,  not  so  much  for  the  injury  he 
offered  me  here  in  your  presence,  as  to  dehght  you  with 
some  mirth,  hath  Faustus  worthily  requited  this  injurious 
knight ;  which  being  all  I  desire,  I  am  content  to  release 
him  of  his  horns  :^and,  sir  knight,  hereafter  speak  well  of 
scholars. — Mephistophilis,  transform  him  straight.  [Mephis- 
TOPHiLis  refHoves  the  horns.']  Now,  my  good  lord,  having 
done  my  duty,  I  humbly  take  my  leave. 

F7np.  Farewell,  master  Doctor  ;  yet,  ere  you  go,  expect 
from  me  a  bounteous  reward. 

[Exetmi  Emperor,  Knight,  a?id  Attendants. 


Scene   IV. 

Faustus  ajid  Mephistophilis. 

Faust.  Now,  Mephistophilis,  the  restless  course 
That  time  doth  run  with  calm  and  silent  foot, 
Shortening  my  days  and  thread  of  vital  life, 
Calls  for  the  payment  of  my  latest  years  ; 


SCENE  IV.]  FAUSTUS.  55 

Therefore,  sweet  Mephistophilis,  let  us 
Make  haste  to  Wertenberg. 

Meph.  What,  will  you  go  on  horseback  or  on  foot  ? 

Fiwst.  Nay,  till  I'm  past  this  fair  and  pleasant  green, 
I'll  walk  on  foot. 


Enhr  a  Horse-courser. 

Horse-courser.  I  have  been  all  this  day  seeking  one 
Master  Fustian  :  mass,  see  where  he  is  !— God  save  you> 
Master  Doctor ! 

Faust.  What,  horse-courser!  you  are  well  met. 

Horse-c.  Do  you  hear,  sir?  I  have  brought  you  forty 
dollars  for  your  horse. 

Faust.  I  cannot  sell  him  so ;  if  thou  likest  him  for  fifty, 
take  him. 

Horse-c.  Alas,  sir,  I  have  no  more ! — I  pray  you,  speak 
for  me. 

Meph.  I  pray  you,  let  him  have  him  :  he  is  an  honest 
fellow,  and  he  has  a  great  charge,  neither  wife  nor 
child. 

Faust.  Well,  come,  give  me  your  money  [Horse-courser 
gives  Faustus  the  money\  :  my  boy  will  deliver  him  to  you. 
But  I  must  tell  you  one  thing  before  you  have  him ;  ride 
him  not  into  the  water,  at  any  hand. 

Horse-c.  Why,  sir,  will  he  not  drink  of  all  waters  ? 

Faust.  O,  yes,  he  will  drink  of  all  waters ;  but  ride  him  not 


56  FAUSTUS.  [act  iv. 

into  the  water  :  ride  him  over  hedge  or  ditch,  or  \vhere  thou 
wilt,  but  not  into  the  water. 

Horse-c.  Well,  sir. — Now  I  am  a  made  man  for  ever  ;  Til 
not  leave  my  horse  for  forty.  Well,  God  b'wi'ye,  sir : 
your  boy  will  deliver  him  me :  but,  hark  you,  sir ;  if 
my  horse  be  sick  or  ill  at  ease,  you'll  tell  me  what 
it  is? 

Faust.  Away,  you  villain  !  what,  dost  think  I  am  a  horse- 
doctor?  [^j\:// Horse-courser, 
What  art  thou,  Faustus,  but  a  man  condemn'd  to  die  ? 
Thy  fatal  time  doth  draw  to  final  end ; 
Despair  doth  drive  distrust  into  my  thoughts  : 
Confound  these  passions  with  a  quiet  sleep  : 
Tush,  Christ  did  call  the  thief  upon  the  Cross  ; 
Then  rest  thee,  Faustus^  quiet  in  conceit. 

\Sleeps  ifi  /lis  chair. 

Reenter  Horse-courser,  all  wet,  crying. 

Horse- courser.  AlaS;  alas.  Doctor  Fustian,  quotha?  mass, 
Dr.  Lopus  was  never  such  a  doctor :  has  given  me  a  purgation, 
has  purged  me  of  forty  dollars  ;  I  shall  never  see  them  more. 
But  yet,  like  an  ass  as  I  was,  I  would  not  be  ruled  by  him, 
for  he  bade  me  I  should  ride  him  into  no  water  :  now  I, 
thinking  my  horse  had  had  some  rare  quality  that  he  would 
not  have  had  me  know  of,  I,  like  a  venturous  youth,  rid  him 
mto  the  deep  pond  at  the  town's  end.     I  was  no  sooner  in 


SCENE  IV.]  FAUSTUS.  S7 

the  middle  of  the  pond,  but  my  horse  vanished  away,  and  I 
sat  upon  a  bottle  of  hay,  never  so  near  drowning  in  my  Ufe. 
But  I'll  seek  out  my  doctor,  and  have  my  forty  dollars 
again,  or  I'll  make  it  the  dearest  horse  !— O,  yonder  is  his 
snipper-snapper. — Do  you  hear?  you,  heypass,  where's  your 
master? 

Mep/i.  Why,  sir,  what  would  you  ?  you  cannot  speak  with 
him. 

Horse-c.  But  I  will  speak  with  him. 
Meph.  Why,  he's  fast  asleep  :  come  so.me  other  time. 
Horse-c.  I'll  speak  with  him  now,  or  I'll  break  his  glass- 
windows  about  his  ears. 

Meph.  I  tell  thee,  he  has  not  slept  these  eight  nights. 
Horse-c.    An'    he  have  not  slept  these  eight  weeks,  I'll 
speak  with  him. 

Meph.  See,  where  he  is,  fast  asleep. 
Horse-c.  Ay,  this  is  he. — God  save  ye.  Master  Doctor^ 
Master  Doctor,  Master  Doctor  Fustian  !   forty  dollars,  forty 
dollars  for  a  bottle  of  hay  ! 

Meph.  Why,  thou  seest  he  hears  thee  not. 
Horse-c.  So-ho,  ho  !    so-ho,  ho !      \Holloivs  hi  his  ear."] 
No,  will  you  not  wake?     I'll  make  you  wake  ere  I  go. 
[Pulls  Faustus  by  the  leg,  and  pulls  it  a7aay.]     Alas,  I  am 
undone  !  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Faust.  O,  my  leg,  my  leg  ! — Help,  Mephistophilis  !   call 
the  officers. — My  leg,  my  leg  ! 

Meph.  Come,  villain,  to  the  constable. 


SB  FAUSTUS.  [act  IV. 

Horse-c,  O  Lord,  sir,  let  me  go,  and  I'll  give  you  forty 
dollars  more  1 

Meph.  Where  be  they  ? 

Horse-c.  1  have  none  about  me :  come  to  my  ostry,  and 
I'll  give  them  you. 

Meph.  Begone  quickly.  [Horse-courser  runs  away. 

Faust.  What,  is  he  gone  ?  farewell  he  !     Faustus  has  hi 
leg  again,  and  the  Horse-courser,  I  take  it,  a  bottle  of  ha 
for  his  labour :  well,  this  trick  shall  cost  him  forty  dollars 
more. 

Enter  Wagner. 

How  now,  W'agner  !  what's  the  news  with  thee  ? 

Wag.  Sir,  the  Duke  of  Vanholt  doth  earnestly  entreat 
your  company. 

Faust.  The  Duke  of  Vanholt !  an  honourable  gentleman, 
to  whom  I  must  be  no  niggard  of  my  cunning. — Come, 
Mephistophilis,  let's  away  to  him.  \Excu?it. 

Scene    V. 
Enter  the  Duke  of  Vanholt,  the  Duchess  and  Faustus. 

Duke.  Believe  me,  Master  Doctor,  this  merriment  hath 
much  pleased  me. 

Faust.  My  gracious  lord,  I  am  glad  it  contents  you  so 
well. — But  it  may,  be,  madam,  you  take  no  delight  in  this. 
I  have   heard    that    at   times  women   do   loner    fo/  some 


SCENE  v.]  FAUSTUS.  59 

dainties  or  other :  what  is  it,  madam  ?  Tell  me,  and  you 
shall  have  it. 

Duchess.  Thanks,  good  Master  Doctor;  and,  for  I  see 
your  courteous  intent  to  pleasure  me,  I  will  not  hide  from 
you  the  thing  my  heart  desires ;  and,  were  it  now  summer, 
as  it  is  January  and  the  dead  time  of  the  winter,  I  would 
desire  no  better  meat  than  a  dish  of  ripe  grapes. 

Fatisi.  Alas,  madam,  that's  nothing  ! — Mephistophilis,  be 
gone!  \Exit  Mephistophilis.]  Were  it  a  greater  thing 
than  this,  so  it  would  content  you,  you  should  have  it. 

Re-enter  Mephistophilis  with  grapes. 

Here  they  be,  madam  :  wilt  please  you  taste  on  them  ? 

Diike.  Believe  me,  Master  Doctor,  this  makes  me  wonder 
above  the  rest,  that  being  in  the  dead  time  of  winter,  and 
in  the  month  of  January,  how  you  should  come  by  these 
grapes. 

Faust.  If  it  like  your  Grace,  the  year  is  divided  into  two 
circles  over  the  whole  world,  that,  when  it  is  here  winter 
with  us,  in  the  contrary  circle  it  is  summer  with  them,  as  in 
India,  Saba,  and  farther  countries  in  the  east ;  and  by 
means  of  a  swift  spirit  that  I  have,  I  had  them  brought 
hither,  as  you  see. — How  do  you  like  them,  madam  ?  Be 
they  good? 

Duchess.  Believe  me.  Master  Doctor,  they  be  the  best 
grapes  that  e'er  I  tasted  in  my  life  before. 

Faust.  I  am  glad  they  content  you  so,  madam. 


6o  FAUSTUS.  [actv. 

Dtike.  Come,  madam,  let  us  in,  where  you  must  well 
reward  this  learned  man  for  the  great  kindness  he  hath 
shewed  to  you. 

Duchess.  And  so  I  will,  my  lord ;  and,  whilst  I  live,  rest 
beholding  for  this  courtesy.     . 

Faust.  I  humbly  thank  your  Grace. 

Duke.  Come,  Master  Doctor,  follow  us,  and  receive  your 
reward.  ,  {Exeunt. 

ACT   V. 

Scene   I. 

Enter  Wagner. 

Wag.  I  think  my  master  means  to  die  shortly, 
For  he  hath  given  to  me  all  his  goods  : 
And  yet,  methinks,  if  that  death  were  near, 
He  would  not  banquet,  and  carouse,  and  swill 
Amongst  the  students,  as  even  now  he  doth, 
Who  are  at  supper  with  such  belly-cheer 
As  Wagner  ne'er  beheld  in  all  his  life. 
See,  where  they  come  !    belike  the  feast  is  ended.         \Exit, 

Enter  Faustus  tvith  two  or  three  Scholars,  and 
Mephistophilis. 

First  Schol.  Master  Doctor  Faustus,  since  our  conference 
about  fair  ladies,  which  was  the  beautifulest  in  all  the  world, 
we  have  determined  with  ourselves  that  Helen  of  Greece 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  6i 

was  the  admirablest  lady  that  ever  lived  ;  therefore,  Master 
Doctor,  if  you  will  do  us  that  favour,  as  to  let  us  see  that 
peerless  dame  of  Greece,  whom  all  the  world  admires  for 
majesty,  we  should  think  ourselves  much  beholding  unto 
you. 

Faust,  Gentlemen, 
For  that  I  know  your  friendship  is  unfeign'd, 
And  Faustus's  custom  is  not  to  deny 
The  just  request  of  those  that  wish  him  well, 
You  shall  behold  that  peerless  dame  of  Greece, 
No  otherways  for  pomp  and  majesty 
Than  when  Sir  Paris  cross'd  the  seas  with  her, 
And  brought  the  spoils  to  rich  Dardania. 
Be  silent,  then,  for  danger  is  in  words. 

[^Micsic  sounds,  and  Helen /^j-.f,?///  over  the  stage. 

Sec.  Schol.  Too  simple  is  my  wit  to  tell  her  praise, 
Whom  all  the  world  admires  for  majesty. 

Third  Schol.  No  marvel  though  the  angry  Greeks  pursu'd 
With  ten  years'  war  the  rape  of  such  a  queen. 
Whose  heavenly  beauty  passeth  all  compare. 

First  Schol.  Since  we  have  seen  the  pride  of  Nature's 
works, 
And  only  paragon  of  excellence, 
Let  us  depart ;  and  for  this  glorious  deed 
Happy  and  blest  be  Faustus  evermore. 

Faust.  Gentlemen,  farewell :   the  same  I  wish  to  you. 

\Exeuni  Scholars. 


62  FAUSTUS.  [actv. 

Enter  an  Old  Man. 

Old  Man.  Ah,  Doctor  Faustus,  that  I  might  prevail 
To  guide  thy  steps  unto  the  way  of  life, 
By  which  sweet  path  thou  mayst  attain  the  goal 
That  shall  conduct  thee  to  celestial  rest ! 
Break  heart,  drop  blood,  and  mingle  it  with  tears, 
Tears  falling  from  repentant  heaviness 
Of  thy  most  vile  and  loathsome  filthiness. 
The  stench  whereof  corrupts  the  inward  soul 
With  such  flagitious  crimes  of  heinous  sin 
As  no  commiseration  may  expel, 
But  mercy,  Faustus,  of  thy  Saviour  sweet, 
Whose  blood  alone  must  wash  away  thy  guilt. 

Faust.  Where  art  thou,  Faustus  ?  wretch,  what  hast  thou 
done? 
Damn'd  art  thou,  Faustus,  damn'd ;   despair  and  die  ! 
Hell  calls  for  right,  and  with  a  roaring  voice 
Says,  "  Faustus,  come  ;  thine  hour  is  almost  come  i^ 
And  Faustus  now  will  come  to  do  thee  right. 

[Mephistophilis  gives  him  a  dagger. 

Old  Ma?i.    Ah,  stay,  good    Faustus,  stay  thy  desperate 
stabs ! 
I  see  an  angel  hovers  o'er  thy  head, 
And,  with  a  vial  full  of  precious  grace, 
Offers  to  pour  the  same  into  thy  soul : 
Then  call  for  mercy,  and  avoid  despair. 

Faust,  Ah,  my  sweet  friend,  I  feel  ;, 


SCENE  I.]  FAUSTUS.  63 

Thy  words  to  comfort  my  distressed  soul ! 
Leave  me  awhile  to  ponder  on  my  sins. 

Old  Mail.  I  go,  sweet  Faustus  ;  but  with  heavy  cheer, 
Fearing  the  ruin  of  thy  hapless  soul.  \Exit, 

Faust.  Accursed  Faustus,  where  is  mercy  now  ? 
I  do  repent ;  and  yet  I  do  despair  : 
Hell  strives  with  grace  for  conquest  in  my  breast : 
What  shall  I  do  to  shun  the  snares  of  death  ? 

Meph.  Thou  traitor,  Faustus,  I  arrest  thy  soul 
For  disobedience  to  my  sovereign  lord  : 
Revolt,  or  I'll  in  piece-meal  tear  thy  flesh. 

Faust.  Sweet  Mephistophilis,  entreat  thy  lord 
To  pardon  my  unjust  presumption. 
And  with  my  blood  again  I  will  confirm 
My  former  vow  I  made  to  Lucifer. 

Meph.  Do  it,  then,  quickly,  with  unfeigned  heart, 
Lest  greater  danger  do  attend  thy  drift. 

Faust.  Torment,  sweet  friend,  that  base  and  crooked  age, 
That  durst  dissuade  me  from  thy  Lucifer, 
With  greatest  torments  that  our  hell  affords. 

Me;ph.  His  faith  is  great ;  I  cannot  touch  his  soul ; 
But  what  I  may  afflict  his  body  with 
I  will  attempt,  which  is  but  little  worth. 

Faust.  One  thing,  good  servant,  let  me  crave  of  thee^ 
To  glut  the  longing  of  my  heart's  desire, — 
That  I  might  have  unto  my  paramour 
That  heavenly  Helen  which  I  saw  of  late, 


64  ^^  USTUS.  [act  v. 

Whose  sweet  embracings  may  extinguish  clean 
Those  thoughts  that  do  dissuade  me  from  my  vow, 
And  keep  mine  oath  I  made  to  Lucifer. 

Mepk.  Faustus,  this,  or  what  else  thou  shalt  desire, 
Shall  be  perform'd  in  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

Re-enter  Helen. 

Faust.  Was  this  the  face  that  launcli'd  a  thousand  ships^ 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ? — 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss. —  {^Kisses  her. 
Her  lips  suck  forth  my  soul :  see,  where  it  flies  1 — 
Come,  Helen,  come,  give  me  my  soul  again. 
Here  wi  11  I  dwell,  for  heaven  is  in  these  lips, 
And  all  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena. 
I  will  be  Paris,  and  for  love  of  thee, 
Instead  of  Troy,  shall  Wertenberg  be  sacked  5 
And  I  will  combat  with  weak  Menelaus, 
And  wear  thy  colours  on  my  plumed  crest ; 
Yea,  I  will  wound  Achilles  in  the  heel, 
And  then  return  to  Helen  for  a  kiss. 
O,  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air 
Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars ; 
Brighter  art  thou  than  flaming  Jupiter 
When  he  appeared  to  hapless  Semele ; 
More  lovely  than  the  monarch  cf  the  sky 
In  wanton  Arethusa's  azur'd  arms  ; 
And  none  but  thou  shalt  be  my  paramour  /  \Exeuni, 


SCENE  III.]  FAUSTUS,  65 

Scene  II. 
E7iter  the  Old  Man. 
Old  Man.  Accursed  Faiistus,  miserable  man, 
That  from  thy  soul  exclud'st  the  grace  of  heaven, 
And  fly'st  the  throne  of  his  tribunal  seat ! 

Enter  Devils.  ' 

Satan  begins  to  sift  me  with  his  pride : 
As  in  this  furnace  God  shall  try  my  faith, 
My  faith,  vile  hell,  shall  triumph  over  thee. 
Ambitious  fiends,  see  how  the  heavens  smile 
At  your  repulse,  and  laugh  your  state  to  scorn  ! 
Hence,  hell  !  for  hence  I  fly  unto  my  God. 

[Exeunt — on  one  side  Devils,  o?i  the  other,  Old  Man, 

Scene  III. 
Enter  Faustus,  with  Scholars. 
Faust.  Ah,  gentlemen ! 
First  Schol.  What  ails  Faustus? 

Faust.  Ah,   my  sweet  chamber-fellow,  had  I  lived  with 
thee,  then  had  I  lived  still  !  but  now  I  die  eternally.     Look, 
comes  he  not  ?  comes  he  not  ? 
Sec.  Schol.  What  means  Faustus  ? 

Third  Schol.  Belike  he  is  grown  into  some  sicknes3  by 
being  over-solitary. 

First  Schol.  If  it  be  so,  we'll    have   physicians   lO  cure 
him. — 'Tis  but  a  surfeit ;  never  fear,  man. 

C 


66  FA  US  TV'S.  [act  v.    . 

Faust.  A  surfeit  of  deadly  sin,  that  hath  damned  both 
body  and  soul. 

Sec.  Schol.  Yet,  Faustus,  look  up  to  heaven ;  remember 
God's  mercies  are  infinite. 

Faust.  But  Faustus's  oftence  can  ne'er  be  pardoned  :  the 
serpent  that  tempted  Eve  may  be  saved,  but  not  Faustus. 
Ah,  gentlemen,  hear  me  with  patience,  and  tremble  not  at 
my  speeches  !  Though  my  heart  pants  and  quivers  to 
remember  that  I  have  been  a  student  here  these  thirty 
years,  O,  would  I  had  never  seen  Wertenberg,  never  read 
book  !  and  what  wonders  I  have  done,  all  Germany  can 
witness,  yea,  all  the  world  ;  for  which  Faustus  hath  lost  both 
Germany  and  the  world,  yea,  heaven  itself,  heaven,  the  seat, 
of  God,  the  throne  of  the  blessed,  the  kingdom  of  joy;  and 
must  remain  in  hell  for  ever,  hell,  ah,  hell,  for  ever  !  Sweet 
friends,  what  shall  become  of  Faustus,  being  in  hell  for 
ever  ? 

Third  Schol.  Yet,  Faustus,  call  on  God. 

Faust.  On  God,  whom  Faustus  hath  abjured !  on  God, 
whom  Faustus  hath  blasphemed  !  Ah,  my  God,  I  would 
weep  !  but  the  devil  draws  in  my  tears.  Gush  forth  blood, 
instead  of  tears  !  yea,  life  and  soul !  O,  he  stays  my 
tongue  !  I  would  lift  up  my  hands ;  but  see,  they  hold 
them,  they  hold  them ! 

AIL  Who,  Faustus  ? 

Faust.  Lucifer  and  Mephistophilis.  Ah,  gentlemen, 
I  gave  them  my  soul  for  my  cunning ! 


SCENE  III.]  FAUSTUS.  67 

AIL  God  forbid  ! 

Faiisf.  God  forbade  it,  indeed ;  but  Faustus  hath  done  it : 
for  vain  pleasure  of  twenty-four  years  hath  Faustus  lost 
eternal  joy  and  felicity.  I  writ  them  a  bill  with  mine  own 
blood :  the  date  is  expired  ;  the  time  will  come,  and  he  will 
fetch  me. 

First  SchoL  Why  did  not  Faustus  tell  us  of  this  before, 
that  divines  might  have  prayed  for  thee  ? 

Fatist  Oft  have  I  thought  to  have  done  so ;  but  the 
devil  threatened  to  tear  me  in  pieces,  if  I  named  God,  to 
fetch  both  body  and  soul,  if  I  once  gave  ear  to  divinity  : 
and  now  'tis  too  late.  Gentlemen,  away,  lest  you  perish 
with  me. 

Sec.  SchoL  O,  what  shall  we  do  to  save  Faustus  ? 

FausL  Talk  not  of  m.e,  but  save  yourselves,  and  depart. 

Third  SchoL  God  will  strengthen  me;  I  will  stay  with 
Faustus. 

First  SchoL  Tempt  not  God,  sweet  friend ;  but  let  us  into 
the  next  room,  and  there  pray  for  him. 

Faust.  Ay,  pray  for  me,  pray  for  me ;  and  what  noise 
soever  ye  hear,  come  not  unto  me,  for  nothing  can  rescue  me. 

Sec.  SchoL  Pray  thou,  and  we  will  pray  that  God  may 
have  mercy  upon  thee. 

Faust.  Gentlemen,  farewell :  if  I  live  till  morning,  I'll 
visit  you  ;  if  not^  Faustus  is  gone  to  hell. 

AIL  Faustus,  farev/elL 

{Exeunt  Scholars. — The  clock  strikes  eleven. 

0  2 


68  FAUSTUS.  [act  V. 

FausT.  Ah,  Faustus, 
Now  hast  thou  but  one  bare  hour  to  live, 
And  then  thou  must  be  damn'd  perpetually  \ 
Stand  still  j  you  ever-moving  spheres  of  heaven, 
That  time  may  cease,  and  midnight  never  come; 
Fair  Nature's  eye,  rise,  rise  again,  and  make 
Perpetual  day ;  or  let  this  hour  be  but 
A  year,  a  month,  a  week,  a  natural  day. 
That  Faustus  may  repent  and  save  his  soul ! 
O  lente^  lenie  currite^  fioctis  equi ! 
The  stars  move  still,  time  runs,  the  clock  will  strike, 
The  devil  will  come,  and  Faustus  must  be  damn'd. 
O,  I'll  leap  up  to  my  God  ! — Who  pulls  me  down  ? — 
See,  see,  where  Christ's  blood  streams  in  the  firmament ! 
One   drop    would   save    my   soul,   half  a   drop :    ah,    my 

Christ  !— 
Ah,  rend  not  my  heart  for  naming  of  my  Christ ! 
Yet  will  I  call  on  him  :  O,  spare  me,  Lucifer !  -^ 
Where  is  it  now  ?  'tis  gone  :  and  see,  where  God 
Stretcheth  out  his  arm,  and  bends  his  ireful  brows  \ 
Mountains  and  hills,  come,  come,  and  fall  on  me, 
And  hide  me  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God ! 
No,  no  ! 

Then  will  I  headlong  run  into  the  earth : 
Earth,  gape  !     O,  no,  it  will  not  harbour  me ! 
You  stars  that  reign'd  at  my  nativity, 
Whose  influence  hath  allotted  death  and  hell, 


SCENE  III.]  FAUSTUS,  69 

Now  draw  up  Faustus,  like  a  foggy  mist, 
Into  the  entrails  of  yon  labouring  cloud[s], 
That,  when  you  vomit  forth  into  the  air, 
]\Iy  limbs  may  issue  from  your  smoky  mouths, 
So  that  my  soul  may  but  ascend  to  heaven  ! 

[The  clock  strikes  the  Jia'lf-hour. 
Ah^  half  the  hour  is  past !  'twill  all  be  past  anon. 
OGod, 

If  thou  wilt  not  have  mercy  on  my  soul, 
Yet  for  Christ's  sake^  whose  blood  hath  ransom'd  me, 
Impose  some  end  to  my  incessant  pain ; 
Let  Faustus  live  in  hell  a  thousand  years, 
A  hundred  thousand,  and  at  last  be  sav'd ! 
O,  no  end  is  limited  to  damned  souls  ! 
Why  wert  thou  not  a  creature  wanting  soul  ? 
Or  why  is  this  immortal  that  thou  hast  ? 
Ah,  Pythagoras'  metempsychosis,  were  that  true, 
This  soul  should  fly  from  me,  and  I  be  chang'd 
Unto  some  brutish  beast !  all  beasts  are  happy, 
For,  when  they  die, 

Their  souls  are  soon  dissolv'd  in  elements ; 
But  mine  must  live  still  to  be  plagu'd  in  hell. 
Curs'd  be  the  parents  that  engender'd  me ! 
No,  Faustus,  curse  thyself,  curse  Lucifer 
That  hath  depriv'd  thee  of  the  joys  of  heaven. 

\The  clock  strikes  tivelve. 
O,  it  strikes,  it  strikes  1     Now,  body,  turn  to  air, 


70  FAUSTUS.  [actv. 

Or  Lucifer  will  bear  thee  quick  to  hell ! 

\Thunder  and  lightning, 
O  soul,  be  chaiig'd  into  little  water-drops, 
And  fail  into  the  ocean,  ne'er  be  found  ! 

Enter  Devils. 

My  God,  my  God,  look  not  so  fierce  on  me ! 
Adders  and  serpents,  let  me  breathe  a  while  ! 
Ugly  hell,  gape  not !  come  not,  Lucifer  ! 
I'll  burn  my  books  ! — Ah,  Mephistophilis  ! 

\Exeiint  Devils  with  Faustus. 

Enter  Choru§. 

Chor.  Cut   is  the   branch   that   might  have   grown  full 
straight. 
And  burned  is  Apollo's  laurel-bough, 
That  sometime  grew  within  this  learned  man. 
Faustus  is  gone  :  regard  his  hellish  fall. 
Whose  fiendful  fortune  may  exhort  the  wise, 
Only  to  wonder  at  unlawful  things^ 
Whose  deepness  doth  entice  such  forward  wits 
To  practise  more  than  heavenly  power  permits.  {Exit. 

T^rminat  hcra  diem  ;  terminat  auctor  opis. 


Fa  u  s  t. 


PRELUDE  AT  THE  THEATRE. 

Manager.     Dramatic  Poet.     Mr.  Merryman. 

Manager.  My  two  good  friends,  on  whom  I  have  depended, 
At  all  times  to  assist  me  and  advise  ; 
Aid  your  old  friend  once  more — to-night  he  tries 
(And  greatly  fears  the  fate  that  may  attend  it) 
For  German  lands  a  novel  enterprise. 
To  please  the  public  I  am  most  desirous ; 
*'  Live  and  let  live,"  has  ever  been  their  maxim, 
Gladly  they  pay  the  trifle  that  we  tax  'em, 
And  gratitude  should  with  new  zeal  inspire  us. 
Our  temporary  theatre's  erected. 
Planks  laid,  posts  raised,  and  something  is  expected. 
Already  have  the  audience  ta'en  their  station, 
With  eye-brows  lifted  up  in  expectation ; 
Thoughtful  and  tranquil  all — with  hopes  excited, 
Disposed  to  be  amused — amazed — delighted  ! 
I  know  the  people's  taste — their  whims—caprices, 
Could  always  get  up  popular  new  pieces  ; 
But  never  have  I  been  before  so  harassed 
As  now — so  thoroughly  perplext,  embarrassed  ! 


72  FAUST. 

Every  one  reads  so  much  of  every  thing  : 
The  books  they  read  are  not  the  best,  'tis  true  : 
JBut  then  they  are  for  ever  reading — reading  ! 
This  being  so,  how  can  we  hope  to  bring 
Any  thing  out,  that  shall  be  good  and  new  ? 
What  chance  of  now  as  formerly  succeeding? 

How  I  delight  to  see  the  people  striving 
To  force  their  way  into  our  crowded  booth, 
Pouring  along,  and  fighting,  nail  and  tooth, 
Digging  with  elbows,  through  the  passage  driving, 
As  if  it  were  St.  Peter's  gate,  and  leading 
To  something  more  desirable  than  Eden  ; 
Long  before  four,  while  daylight's  strong  as  ever, 
All  hurrying  to  the  box  of  the  receiver. 
Breaking  their  necks  for  tickets — thrusting — ^jamming, 
As  at  a  baker's  door  in  time  of  famine  ! 

On  men  so  various  in  their  disposition, 
So  different  in  manners — rank — condition  ; 
How  is  a  miracle  like  this  effected  ? 
The  poet — he  alone  is  the  magician. 
On  thee,  my  friend,  we  call — from  thee  expect  it. 

Poet.  Oh,  tell  me  not  of  the  tumultuous  crowd, 
My  powers  desert  me  in  the  noisy  throng ; 
Hide,  hide  from  me  the  multitude,  whose  loud 
And  dizzy  whirl  would  hurry  me  along 
AgaiiTist  my  will ;  and  lead  me  to  some  lone 


FA  UST. 

And  silent  vale — some  scene  in  fairy-land, 

There  only  will  the  poet's  heart  expand, 

Surrendered  to  the  impulses  of  song, 

Lost  in  delicious  visions  of  its  own, 

Where  Love  and  Friendship  o'er  the  heart  at  rest 

Watch  through  the  flowing  hours,  and  we  are  blest ! 

Thoughts  by  the  soul  conceived  in  silent  joy, 
Sounds  often  muttered  by  the  timid  voice, 
Tried  by  the  nice  ear,  delicate  of  choice, 
Till  we  at  last  are  pleased,  or  self-deceived, 
The  whole  a  rabble's  madness  may  destroy ; 
And  this,  when,  after  toil  of  many  years, 
Touched  and  retouched,  the  perfect  piece  appears 
To  challenge  praise,  or  win  unconscious  tears, 
As  the  vain  heart  too  easily  beHeved  ; 
Some  sparkling,  showy  thing,  got  up  in  haste. 
Brilliant  and  light,  will  catch  the  passing  taste. 
The  truly  great,  the  genuine,  the  sublime 
Wins  its  slow  way  in  silence  ;  and  the  bard, 
Unnoticed  long,  receives  from  after-time 
The  imperishable  wreath,  his  best,  his  sole  reward  ! 

Mr.  Merry.  Enough  of  this  cold  cant  of  future  ages, 
And  men  hereafter  doting  on-  your  pages ; 
To  prattle  thus  of  other  times  is  pleasant, 
And  all  the  while  neglect  our  own,  the  present. 
Why,  what  if  I  too — Mister  Merryman — 


n 


74  FAUST. 

In  my  vocation  acted  on  your  plan  ? 

If  on  the  unborn  we  squander  our  exertion, 

Who  will  supply  the  living  with  diversion  ? 

And,  clamour  as  you,  authors,  may  about  it, 

They  want  amusement — will  not  go  without  it ; 

Just  look  at  me,  a  fine  young  dashing  fellow — 

My  very  face  works  wonders,  let  me  tell  you ; — 

Now  my  way,  for  your  guidance  I  may  mention — 

Please  but  yourself,  and  feel  no  apprehension. 

The  crowd  will  share  the  feelings  of  the  poet, 

The  praise  he  seeks  they  liberally  bestow  it : 

The  more  that  come,  the  better  for  the  writer. 

Each  flash  of  wit  is  farther  felt — seems  brighter, 

And  every  little  point  appreciated, 

By  some  one  in  the  circle  over-rated. 

All  is  above  its  value  estimated  :  ' 

Take  courage  then, — come — now  for  a  chef-d^oetivre — 

To  make  a  name — to  live,  and  live  for  ever — 

Call  Fancy  up,  with  her  attendant  troop, 

Reason  and  Judgment,  Passion,  Melancholy, 

Wit,  Feeling,  and  among  the  choral  group 

Do  not  forget  the  little  darling,  Folly  ! 

Manager.  But  above  all,  give  them  enough  of  action  \ 
He  who  gives  most,  will  give  most  satisfaction ; 
They  come  to  see  a  shoiv — no  work  whatever, 
Unless  it  be  a  show,  can  win  their  favour ; 
Then,  as  they  wish  it,  let  them  gape  and  stare ; — 


FAUST.  75 

Crowd  scene  on  scene— enough  and  still  to  spare. 
A  show  is  what  they  want ;  they  love  and  pay  for  it ; 
Spite  of  its  serious  parts,  sit  through  a  play  for  it  \ 
And  he  who  gives  one  is  a  certain  favourite ; 
Would  you  please  many,  you  must  give  good  measure ; 
Then  each  finds  something  in't  to  yield  him  pleasure ; 
The  more  you  give,  the  greater  sure  your  chance  is 
To  please,  by  varying  scenes,  such  various  fancies. 
The  interest  of  a  piece,  no  doubt,  increases 
Divided  thus,  and  broken  into  pieces. 
We  want  a  dish  to  hit  the  common  taste; 
Then  hash  it  up  and  serve  it  out  in  haste  ! 
And,  for  my  part,  methinks  it  little  matters  : 
Though  you  may  call  your  work  a  finished  whole, 
The  public  soon  will  tear  this  whole  to  tatters, 
And  but  on  piecemeal  parts  their  praises  dole. 

Poet.  You  cannot  think  how  very  mean  a  task, 
How  humbling  to  the  genuine  artist's  mind, 
To  furnish  such  a  drama  as  you  ask  : 
The  poor  pretender's  bungling  tricks,  I  find, 
Are  now  established  as  the  rules  of  trade, — 
Receipts — by  which  successful  plays  are  made  ! 

Manager.  Such  an  objection  is  of  little  weight 
Against  my  reasoning.     If  a  person  chooses 
To  work  effectively,  no  doubt  he  uses 
The  instrument  that's  most  appropriate. 
Your  play  may — for  your  audience — be  too  good  \ — 


76  FAUST. 

Coarse  lumpish  logs  are  they  of  clumsy  wood— 
Blocks — with  the  hatchet  only  to  be  hewed  ! — 
One  comes  to  drive  away  ennui  or  spleen ; 
Another,  with  o'erloaded  paunch  from  table ; 
A  third,  than  all  the  rest  less  tolerable, 
From  reading  a  review  or  magazine. 
Hither  all  haste,  anticipate  delight, 
As  to  a  Masque,  desire  each  face  illuming, 
And  each,  some  novel  character  assuming, 
Place  for  awhile  their  own  half  out  of  sight. 
The  ladies,  too,  tricked  out  in  brilliant  gear, 
Themselves  ambitious  actresses  appear, 
And,  though  unpaid,  are  still  performers  here. 
What  do  you  dream  in  your  poetic  pride  ? 
Think  you  a  full  house  can  be  satisfied 
And  every  auditor  an  ardent  cheerer  ? 
Pray,  only  look  at  them  a  little  nearer; 
One  half  are  cold  spectators,  inattentive ; 
The  other  dead  to  every  fine  incentive ; 
One  fellow's  thinking  of  a  game  of  cards ; 
One  on  a  wild  night  of  intoxication  : 
Why  court  for  such  a  set  the  kind  regards 
Of  the  coy  Muse — her  highest  fascination  ? 
I  tell  thee  only,  give  enough — enough ; 
Still  more  and  more  -  no  matter  of  what  stuff; 
You  cannot  go  astray  ;  let  all  your  views 
Be  only  for  the  moment  to  amuse, 


FAUST, 

To  keep  them  in  aniazement  or  distraction ; 
Man  is  incapable  cf  satisfaction. 
Why,  what  affects  you  thus — is't  inspiration  ? 
A  reverie  ? — ah  !  can  it  be  vexation  ? 

Poet.  Go,  and  elsewhere  some  fitter  servant  find  ; 
What !  shall  the  poet  squander  then  away, 
For  thy  poor  purposes,  himself,  his  mind. 
Profane  the  gift,  which  Nature,  when  she  gave 
To  him,  to  him  entrusted  for  mankind, 
— Their  birthright — thy  poor  bidding  to  obey. 
And  sink  into  an  humble  trading  slave  ? 
Whence  is  his  power  all  human  hearts  to  win, 
And  why  can  nothing  his  proud  march  oppose, 
As  through  all  elements  the  conqueror  goes  ? 
Oh,  is  it  not  the  harmony  within, 
The  music,  that  hath  for  its  dwelling-place 
His  own  rich  soul  ? — the  heart  that  can  receive 
Again  into  itself,  again  embrace 
The  world  it  clothed  with  beauty  and  bade  live  ? 
With  unregarding  hand  when  Nature  throws 
Upon  the  spindle  the  dull  length  of  thread, 
That  on,  still  on,  in  weary  sameness  flows, 
When  all  things,  that  in  unison  agreeing, 
Should  join  to  form  the  happy  web  of  Being, 
Are  tangled  in  inextricable  strife  : 
Who  can  awake  the  blank  monotony 
To  measured  order?     Who  upon  the  dead 


77 


78  FAUST. 

Unthinking  chaos  breathe  the  charm  of  life, 
Restore  the  dissonant  to  harmony, 
And  bid  the  jarring  individual  be 
A  chord,  that,  in  the  general  consecration. 
Bears  part  with  all  in  musical  relation  ? 
Who  to  the  tempest's  rage  can  give  a  voice 
Like  human  passion  ?  bid  the  serious  mind 
Glow  with  the  colouring  of  the  sunset  hours  ? 
Who  in  the  dear  path  scatter  spring's  first  flowers, 
When  wanders  forth  the  ladye  of  his  choice  ? 
Who  of  the  valueless  green  leaves  can  bind 
A  wreath — the  artist's  proudest  ornament — 
Or,  round  the  conquering  hero's  brow  entwined 
The  best  reward  his  country  can  present  ? 
Whose  voice  is  fame  ?  who  gives  us  to  inherit 
Olympus,  and  the  loved  Elysian  field  ? 
The  soul  of  MAN  subHmed — man's  soaring  spirit 
Seen  in  the  poet,  gloriously  revealed. 

Mr.  Merry.  A  poet  yet  should  regulate  his  fancies. 
Like  that  of  life  should  get  up  his  romances  ; 
First  a  chance  meeting — then  the  young  folk  tarry 
Together — toy  and  trifle,  sigh  and  marry, 
Are  link'd  for  ever,  scarcely  half  intending  it. 
Once  met — 'tis  fixed — no  changing  and  no  mending  it. 
Thus  a  romance  runs  :  fortune,  then  reverses  ; 
Rapture,  then  coldness  ;  bridal  dresses — hearses ; 
The  lady  dying — letters  from  the  lover, 


FA  UST.  79 

And,  ere  you  think  of  it,  the  thing  is  over. 
Shift  your  scenes  rapidly  ',  write  fast  and  gaily, 
Give,  in  your  play,  the  life  we  witness  daily ; 
The  life  which  all  men  live,  yet  few  men  notice. 
Yet  which  will  please  ('tis  very  strange,  but  so  'tis), 
Will  please,  when  forced  again  on  their  attention, 
More  than  the  wonders  of  remote  invention ; 
Glimmerings  of  truth — calm  sentiment— smart  strictures- 
Actors  in  bustle — clouds  of  moving  pictures — 
The  young  will  crowd  to  see  a  work,  revealing 
Their  own  hearts  to  themselves ;  in  solitude 
Will  feast  on  the  remembered  visions — stealing 
For  frenzied  passion  its  voluptuous  food  : 
Unbidden  smiles  and  tears  unconscious  start. 
For  oh !  the  secrets  of  the  poet's  art. 
What  are  they  but  the  dreams  of  the  young  heart? 
Oh  !  'tis  the  young  enjoy  the  poet's  mood, 
Float  with  him  on  imagination's  wing, 
Think  all  his  thoughts,  are  his  in  everything. 
Are,  while  they  dream  not  of  it,  all  they  see : 
Youth— youth  is  the  true  time  for  sympathy. 
This  is  the  sort  of  drink  to  take  the  town ; 
Flavour  it  to  their  taste,  they  gulp  it  down. 
Your  true  admirer  is  the  generous  spirit, 
Unformed,  unspoiled,  he  feels  all  kindred  merit 
As  if  of  his  own  being  it  were  part, 
And  growing  with  the  growth  of  his  own  heart  ] 


8o  FAUST. 

Feels  gratitude,  because  he  feels  that  truth 

Is  taught  hun  by  the  poet — this  is  Youth ; 

Nothing  can  please  your  grown  ones,  they're  so  knowing, 

And  no  one  thanks  the  poet  but  the  growing. 

Poet.  Give  me,  oh !  give  me  back  the  days 
When  I — I  too — was  young — 
And  felt,  as  they  now  feel,  each  coming  hour 
New  consciousness  of  power. 
Oh  happy,  happy  time,  above  all  praise ! 
Then  thoughts  on  thoughts  and  crowding  fancies  sprung, 
And  found  a  language  in  unbidden  lays ; 
Unintermitted  streams  from  fountains  ever  flowing. 
Then,  as  I  wander'd  free, 
In  every  field,  for  me 
Its  thousand  flowers  were  blowing ! 

A  veil  through  which  I  did  not  see, 
A  thin  veil  o'er  the  world  wa.s  thrown 

In  every  bud  a  mystery ; 

Magic  in  everything  unknown  : — 

The  fields,  the  grove,  the  air  was  haunted, 

And  all  that  age  has  disenchanted. 
Yes  !  give  me — give  me  back  the  days  of  youth. 
Poor,  yet  how  rich  ! — my  glad  inheritance 
The  inextinguishable  love  of  truth, 
While  life's  realities  w^ere  all  romance — 
Give  me,  oh  !  give  youth's  passions  unconfined, 
The  rush  of  joy  that  felt  almost  like  pain.- 


FAUST,  8r 

Its  hate,  its  love,  its  own  tumultuous  mind , — 
Give  me  my  youth  again  ! 

Mr.  Merry.  Why,  my  dear  friend,  for  youth  thus  sigh 
and  prattle, 
'Twould  be  a  very  good  thing  in  a  battle ; 
Or  on  your  arm  if  a  fine  girl  were  leaning, 
Then,  T  admit,  the  wish  would  have  some  meaning ; 
In  running  for  a  bet,  to  clear  the  distance, 
A  young  man's  sinews  would  be  som.e  assistance  j 
Or  if,  after  a  dance,  a  man  was  thinking 
Of  reeling  out  the  night  in  glorious  drinking ; 
But  you  have  only  among  chords,  well  known 
Of  the  familiar  harp,  with  graceful  finger 
Freely  to  stray  at  large,  or  fondly  linger, 
Courting  some  wandering  fancies  of  your  own  ; 
While,  with  capricious  windings  and  delays. 
Loitering,  or  lost  in  an  enchanted  maze 
Of  sweet  sounds,  the  rich  melody,  at  will 
Gliding,  here  rests,  here  indolently  strays, 
Is  ever  free,  yet  evermore  obeys 
The  hidden  guide,  thar  journeys  with  it  still. 
This  is,  old  gentleman,  your  occupation. 
Nor  think  that  it  makes  less  our  veneration. 
"  Age,"  says  the  song,  "  the  faculties  bewildering, 
Renders  men  childish  " — no  !  it  finds  them  children. 

Man.  Come,  come,  no  more  of  this  absurd  inventory' 
Of  flattering  phrases — courteous — complimentary. 


Sz  FAUST. 

You  both  lose  time  in  words  unnecessary, 

Playing  with  language  thus  at  fetch  and  carry  ; 

Think  not  of  tuning  now  or  preparation, 

Strike  up,  my  boy — no  fear — no  hesitation, 

Till  you  commence  no  chance  of  inspiration. 

But  once  assume  the  poet — then  the  fire 

From  heaven  will  come  to  kindle  and  inspire. 

Strong  drink  is  what  we  want  to  gull  the  people, 

A  hearty,  brisk,  and  animating  tipple  ; 

Come,  come,  no  more  delay,  no  more  excuses. 

The  stuff  we  ask  you  for,  at  once  produce  us. 

Lose  this  day  loitering — 'twill  be  the  same  story 

To-morrow — and  the  next  more  dilatory; 

Then  indecision  brings  its  own  delays. 

And  days  are  lost  lamenting  o'er  lost  days. 

Are  you  in  earnest  ?  seize  this  very  minute — 

What  you  can  do,  or  dream  you  can,  begin  it, 

Boldness  has  genius,  power,  and  magic  in  it. 

Only  engage,  and  then  the  mind  grows  heated — 

Begin  it,  and  the  work  will  be  completed ! 

You  know  our  German  bards,  like  bold  adventurers, 

Bring  out  whate'er  they  please,  and  laugh  at  censurers. 

Then  do  not  think  to-day  of  sparing  scenery — 

Command  enough  of  dresses  and  machinery ; 

Use  as  yon  please — fire,  water,  thunder,  levin — 

The  greater  and  the  lesser  lights  of  heaven. 

Squander  away  the  stars  at  your  free  pleasure, 

And  build  up  rocks  and  mountains  without  measure. 


FA  UST.  83 

Of  birds  and  beasts  we've  plenty  here  to  lavish, 

Come,  cast  away  all  apprehensions  slavish — 

Strut,  on  our  narrow  stage,  with  lofty  stature, 

As  moving  through  the  circle  of  wide  nature. 

With  swiftest  speed,  in  calm  thought  weighing  well 

Each  movement — move  from  heaven  through  earth  to 

HELL. 


PROLOGUE  IN  HEAVEN, 

Der  Herr,  the  Heavenly  Hosts,  afterwards 
Mephistopheles. 

The  three  Archangels  come  forward. 

Raphael,  The  sun,  as  in  the  ancient  days, 
^Mong  sister  stars  in  rival  song, 
His  destined  path  observes,  obeys. 
And  still  in  thunder  rolls  along  : 
New  strength  and  full  beatitude 
The  angels  gather  from  his  sight. 
Mysterious  all — yet  all  is  good. 
All  fair  as  at  the  birth  of  light  ! 

Gabriel.  Swift,  unimaginably  swift, 
Soft  spins  the  earth,  and  glories  bright 
Of  mid-day  Eden  change  and  shift 
To  shades  of  deep  and  spectral  night. 
The  vexed  sea  foams — waves  leap  and  moan, 
And  chide  the  rocks  widi  insult  hoarse, 


84  FAUST, 

And  wave  and  rock  are  hurried  on, 
And  suns  and  stars  in  endless  course. 

Michael.  And  winds  with  winds  mad  v/ar  maintain, 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea ; 
And  heave  round  earth,  a  living  chain 
Of  interwoven  agency. — 
Guides  of  the  bursting  thunder-peal, 
Fast  lightnings  flash  with  deadly  ray, 
While,  Lord,  with  Thee  thy  servants  feel 
Calm  effluence  of  abiding  day. 

Al/.  New  strength  and  full  beatitude 
The  angels  gather  from  thy  sight ; 
Mysterious  all,  yet  all  is  good, 
All  fair  as  at  the  birth  of  light. 

Meph.  Since  Thou,  O  Lord,  dost  visit  us  once  more, 
To  ask  how  things  are  going  on,  and  since 
You  have  received  me  kindly  heretofore, 
I  venture  to  the  levee  of  my  prince. 
Pardon  me,  if  I  fail,  after  the  sort 
Of  bending  courtiers  here,  to  pay  my  court ; 
The  company  is  far  too  fine  for  me, 
They  smile  with  scorn  such  folk  in  heaven  to  see. 
High  hymns  and  solemn  words  are  not  my  forte. 
Pathos  from  me  would  look  too  like  a  joke ; 
Words,  that  from  others  had  set  angels  weeping, 
To  laughter  would  your  very  self  provoke, 
If  laughter  were  not  wholly  out  of  keeping. 


FA  [/ST.  85 

Nothing  of  suns  or  worlds  have  I  to  say, 

I  only  see  how  men  fret  on  their  day ; 

The  little  god  of  earth  is  still  the  same 

Strange  thing  he  was,  when  first  to  life  he  came  ; 

That  life  were  somewhat  better,  if  the  light 

Of  heaven  had  not  been  given  to  spoil  him  quite. 

Reason  he  calls  it — see  its  blessed  fruit, 

Than  the  brute  beast  man  is  a  beastlier  brute ; 

He  seems  to  me,  if  I  may  venture  on 

Such  a  comparison^  to  be  like  one 

Of  those  long  lank-legged  grasshoppers,  whose  song 

The  self-same  creak,  chirps,  as  they  bound  along, 

Monotonous  and  restless  in  the  grass, 

'Twere  well  'twas  in  grass  always  ;  but,  alas, 

They  thrust  their  snouts  in  every  filth  they  pass. 

Der  Herr.  Hast  thou  no  more  than  this  to  say, 
Thou,  who  complainest  every  day  ? 
Are  all  things  evil  in  thy  sight  ? 
Does  nothing  on  the  earth  move  right? 

Meph.  Not  anything,  my  lord — poor  men  so  fervent 
And  foolish  are — I  almost  feel  compassion. 

Der  Herr.  Dost  thou  know  Faust  ? 

Meph.  The  doctor  ? 

Der  Herr.  Yes;  my  servant. 

Meph.  Truly,  he  serves  in  a  peculiar  fashion; 
Child  though  he  be  of  human  birth, 
His  food  and  drink  are  not  of  earth. 


86  FAUST, 

Foolish —  even  he  at  times  will  feel 
The  folly  in  such  hopes  to  deal  :— 
His  fancies  hurry  him  afar ; 
Of  heaven  he  asks  its  highest  star ; 
Self-willed  and  spoiled,  in  mad  pursuit^ 
Of  earth  demands  its  fairest  fruit ; 
And  all  that  both  can  give  supplied, 
Behold  him  still  unsatisfied  ! 

Der  Herr,  Yes ;  for  he  serves  in  a  perplexing  scene, 
That  oft  misleads  him.     Still  his  will  is  right; 
Soon  comes  the  time  to  lead  him  into  light. 
Now  is  the  first  prophetic  green, 
The  hopes  and  promises  of  spring. 
The  unformed  bud  and  blossoming ; 
And  he  who  reared  the  tree  and  knows  the  clime 
Will  seek  and  find  fair  fruit  in  fitting  time. 

Meph.  What   will    you    wager    you    don't    lose    him 
yet. 
With  all  his  promise  ?     Had  I  only  freedom 
On  my  own  path  with  easy  lure  to  lead  him, 
I've  not  a  doubt  of  it  I  win  the  bet. 

Der  Herr.  As  long  as  on  the  earth  endures  his  life 
To  deal  with  him  have  full  and  free  permission ; 
JVEan's  hour  on  earth  is  weakness,  error,  strife. 

Meph.  Cheerfully  I  agree  to  the  condition  ; 
I  have  no  fancy  for  the  dead  :  your  youth, 
With  full  fresh  cheeks^  tastes  daintier  to  my  tooth. 


FAUST,  87 

Should  a  corpse  call,  the  answer  at  my  house 
Is,  "  Not  at  home."     My  play  is  cat  and  mouse. 

Be?'  Herr.  Be  it  permitted  :  from  his  source  divert 
And  draw  this  Spirit  captive  down  with  thee ; 
Till  baffled  and  in  shame  thou  dost  admit, 
"  A  good  man,  clouded  though  his  senses  be 
By  error,  is  no  willing  slave  to  it." 
His  consciousness  of  good  will  it  desert 
The  good  man  ? — yea,  even  in  his  darkest  hours 
Still  doth  he  war  with  Darkness  and  the  Povvers 
Of  Darkness  ; — for  the  light  he  cannot  see 
Still  round  him  feels  ; — and,  if  he  be  not  free, 
Struggles  against  this  strange  captivity. 

Meph.  Aye  !  feelings  that  have  no  abiding- 
Short  struggles — give  him  to  my  guiding— 
I  cannot  have  a  doubt  about  the  bet. 
Oh  !  in  what  triumph  shall  I  crow  at  winning  ! 
Dust  he  shall  eat,  and  eat  with  pleasure  yet. 
Like  that  first  SNAKE  in  my  poor  heraldry, 
Who  has  been  eating  it  from^  the  beginning. 

Der  Herr.  Here  too  take  your  own  course— you  are  quite 
free 
In  the  concern, — with  anything  but  loathing 
I  look  on  folk  like  you.     My  work  demands 
Such  servants.     Of  the  Spirits  of  Denial 
The  pleasantest,  that  figures  in  Man's  Trial^ 
Is  Old  Iniquity  in  his  Fool's  clothing  \ 


88  FAUST, 

The  Vice  is  never  heavy  upon  hands  ; 
Without  the  Knave  the  Mystery  were  nothing. 
For  Man's  activity  soon  tires, 
(A  lazy  being  at  the  best) 
And  sting  and  spur  requires. 
In  indolent  enjoyment  Man  would  live, 
And  this  companion,  whom  I  therefore  give, 
Goads,  urges,  drives — is  devil  and  cannot  rest. 
But  ye,  pure  sons  of  God,  be  yours  the  sight 
Of  Beauty,  each  hour  brighter  and  more  bright ! 
The  Life,  in  all  around,  below,  above 
That  ever  lives  and  works — the  rnfinite 
Enfold  you  in  the  happy  bonds  of  love ! 
And  all  that  flows  unfixed  and  undefined 
In  glimmering  phantasy  before  the  mind, 
Bid  Thought's  enduring  chain  for  ever  bind  ! 

\Heaveii  closes.     The  archangels  disperse, 
Meph.  \_alone\.  I'm  very  glad  to  have  it  in  m.y  power 
To  see  him  now  and  then ;  he  is  so  civil : 
I  rather  like  our  good  old  governor — 
Think  only  of  his  speaking  to  the  devil ! 

Time,  Night 
Scene,  A  hi^h-arched,  narrow,   Gothic  chanihcr-^ 
Faust  at  his  desk — restless.         • 
Faust.  Alas  !    I  have  explored 
Philosophy,  and  Law,  and  Medicine ; 


FAUST,  Sg 


And  over  deep  Divinity  have  pored, 

Studying  with  ardent  and  laborious  zeal  ; 

And  here  I  am  at  last,  a  very  fool, 

With  useless  learning  curst, 

No  wiser  than  at  first ! 

Here  am  I — boast  and  wonder  of  the  school : 

Magister,  Doctor^  and  I  lead 

These  ten  years  past,  my  pupils'  creed  ; 

Winding,  by  dexterous  words,  with  ease, 

Their  opinions  as  I  please. 

And  now  to  feel  that  nothing  can  be  known  ! 

This  is  a  thought  that  burns  into  my  heart. 

I  have  been  more  acute  than  all  these  triflers, 

Doctors  and  authors,  priests,  philosophers  ; 

Have  sounded  all  the  depths  of  every  science. 

Scruples,  or  the  perplexity  of  doubt, 

Torment  me  not,  nor  fears  of  hell  or  devih 

But  I  have  lost  all  peace  of  mind  : 

Whate'er  I  knew,  or  thought  I  knew, 

Seen\s  now  unmeaning  or  untrue. 

The  fancy  too  has  died  away, 

The  hope,  that  I  might,  in  my  day, 

Instruct,  and  elevate  mankind. 

Thus  robbed  of  learning's  only  pleasure. 

Without  dominion,  rank,  or  treasure, 

Without  one  joy  that  earth  can  give, 

Could  dog — were  I  a  dog — so  live  ? 


90  FA  UST, 


Therefore  to  magic,  with  severe 
And  patient  toil,  have  I  applied, 
Despairing  of  all  other  guide. 
That  from  some  Spirit  I  might  hear 
Deep  truths,  to  others  unrevealed^ 
And  mysteries  from  mankind  sealed  -, 
And  never  more,  with  shame  of  heart, 
Teach  things,  of  which  I  know  no  part. 
Oh,  for  a  glance  into  the  earth  ! 
To  see  below  its  dark  foundations, 
Life's  embryo  seeds  before  their  birth 
And  Nature's  silent  operations. 
Thus  end  at  once  this  vexing  fever 
Of  words — mere  words — repeated  ever. 

Beautiful  Moon  ! — Ah  !  would  that  now, 
For  the  last  time,  thy  lovely  beams 
Shone  on  my  troubled  brow  ! 
Oft  by  this  desk,  at  middle  night, 
I  have  sat  gazing  for  thy  light. 
Wearied  with  search,  through  volumes  endless, 
I  sate  'mong  papers — crowded  books, 
Alone — when  thou,  friend  of  the  friendless, 
Camest  smiling  in,  with  soothing  looks. 
Oh,  that  upon  some  headland  height 
I  now  were  wandering  in  thy  light ! 
Floating  with  Spirits,  like  a  shadow, 
Round  mountain-cave,  o'er  twilight  meadow; 


FAUST,  91 

And  from  the  toil  of  thought  relieved, 
No  longer  sickened  and  deceived, 
In  thy  soft  dew  could  bathe,  and  find 
Tranquillity  and  health  of  mind. 

Alas !  and  am  I  in  the  gloom 

Still  of  this  cursed  dungeon  room  ? 

Where  even  heaven's  light,  so  beautiful, 

Through  the  stained  glass  comes  thick  and  dull ; 

'Mong  volumes  heaped  from  floor  to  ceiling, 

Scrolls  with  book-worms  through  them  stealing ; 

Dreary  walls,  where  dusty  paper 

Bears  deep  stains  of  smoky  vapour; 

Glasses^  instruments,  all  lumber 

Of  this  kind  the  place  encumber ; 

All  a  man  of  learning  gathers. 

All  bequeathed  me  by  my  fathers, 

Crucibles  from  years  undated, 

Chairs  of  structure  antiquated, 

Are  in  strange  confusion  hurled  ! 

Here,  Faustus,  is  thy  world — a  world ! 

Btill  dost  thou  ask,  why  in  thy  breast 

The  sick  heart  flutters  ill  at  rest  ? 

Why  a,  dull  Sense  of  suffering 

Deadens  life's  current  at  the  spring? 

From  living  nature  thou  hast  fled 

To  dwell  'mong  fragments  of  the  dead  ; 

And  for  the  lovely  scenes  which  Heaven 


92  FAUST, 

Hath  made  man  for,  to  man  hath  given  ; 
Hast  chosen  to  pore  o'er  mouldering  bones 
Of  brute  and  human  skeletons  ! 

Away—  away  and  far  away  ! 

This  book,  where  secret  spells  are  scanned, 

Traced  by  Nostradam's  own  hand, 

Will  be  thy  strength  and  stay : 

The  courses  of  the  stars  to  thee 

No  longer  are  a  mystery; 

The  thoughts  of  Nature  thou  canst  seek,- 

As  Spirits  with  their  brothers  speak. 

It  isj  it  is  the  planet  hour 

Of  thy  own  being ;  light,  and  power, 

And  fervour  to  the  soul  are  given, 

As  proudly  it  ascends  its  heaven. 

To  ponder  here,  o'er  spells  and  signs, 

Symbohc  letters,  circles,  lines ; 

And  from  their  actual  use  refrain, 

Were  time  and  labour  lost  in  vain  : 

Then  ye,  whom  I  feel  floating  near  me, 

Spirits,  answer,  ye  who  hear  me ! 

\He  opens  the  book^  and  lights  upon  the  sign 
of  Macrocosmus. 
Ha  !  what  new  life  divine,  intense. 
Floods  in  a  moment  every  sense ; 
I  feel  the  dawn  of  youth  again, 


FAUST,  93 

Visiting  each  glowing  veiii ! 

Was  it  a  god — a  god  who  wrote  these  signs? 

The  tumults  of  my  soul  are  stilled, 

My  withered  heart  with  rapture  filled  ; 

In  virtue  of  the  magic  lines, 

The  secret  powers  that  Nature  mould, 

Their  essence  and  their  acts  unfold — 

Am  I  a  god  ? — Can  mortal  sight 

Enjoy,  endure  this  burst  of  light? 

How  clear  these  silent  characters  ! 

All  Nature  present  to  my  view, 

And  each  creative  act  of  hers — 

And  is  the  glorious  vision  true  ? 

The  wise  man's  words  at  length  are  plain, 

Whose  sense  so  long  I  sought  in  vain : 

"  The  Worlde  of  Spirits  no  Clouds  conceale  : 

Man's  Eye  is  dim,  it  cannot  see. 

Man's  Heart  is  dead,  it  cannot  feele. 

Thou,  who  wouldst  knowe  the  Things  that  be, 

The  Heart  of  Earth  in  the  Sunrise  red, 

Bathe,  till  its  Stains  of  Earth  are  fled." 

\Hs  looks  over  ike  sign  attentively. 

Oh  !  how  the  spell  before  my  sight 
Brings  nature's  hidden  ways  to  light : 
See !  all  things  with  each  other  blending — 
Each  to  all  its  being  lending— 


94  FAUST, 

All  on  each  in  turn  depending —   , 

Heavenly  ministers  descending — 

And  again  to  heaven  up-tending — 

Floating,  mingUng,  interweaving — 

Rising,  sinking,  and  receiving 

Each  from  each,  while  each  is  giving 

On  to  each,  and  each  relieving 

Each,  the  pails  of  gold,  the  living 

Current  through  the  air  is  heaving ; 

Breathing  blessings,  see  them  bending, 

Balanced  worlds  from  change  defending, 

While  every  where  diffused  is  harmony  unending ! 

Oh  !  what  a  vision— but  a  vision  only  ! 

Can  heart  of  man  embrace 

Illimitable  Nature  ? 

Fountain  of  life,  forth-welling ; 

The  same  in  every  place ; 

That  dost  support  and  cheer 

Wide  heaven,  and  teeming  earth,  and  every  creature 

That  hath  therein  its  dwelling, 

Oh  !  could  the  blighted  soul  but  feel  thee  near  ! 

To  thee  still  turns  the  withered  heart. 

To  thee  the  spirit,  seared  and  lonely, 

Childlike,  would  seek  the  sweet  restorative ; 

On  thy  maternal  bosom  feed  and  live. 

I  ask  a  solace  thou  dost  not  impart  i 


FAUST.  95 

The  food  I  hunger  for  thou  dost  not  give ! 

\He  tur?is  over  the  leaves  of  the  book  impatiently,  till  his 
eye  rests  on  the  sign  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Earth. 
How  differently  this  sign  affects  my  frame ! 
Spirit  of  Earth  !  my  nature  is  the  same, 
Or  near  akin  to  thine ! 
How  fearlessly  I  read  this  sign ! 
And  feel  even  now  new  powers  are  mine ; 
While  my  brain  burns,  as  though  with  wine ; 
Give  me  the  agitated  strife, 
The  madness  of  the  world  of  life  ; 
I  feel  within  my  soul  the  birth 
Of  strength,  enabhng  me  to  bear, 
And  thoughts,  impelling  me  to  share 
The  fortunes,  good  or  evil,  of  the  Earth ; 
To  battle  with  the  Tempest's  breath. 
Or  plunge  where  Shipwreck  grinds  his  teeth. 

All  around  grows  cold  and  cloudy, 

The  moon  withdraws  her  ray ; 

The  lamp's  loose  flame  is  shivering, 

It  fades,  it  dies  away. 

Ha  !  round  my  brow  what  sparkles  ruddy 

In  trembling  light  are  quivering  ? 

And,  to  and  fro. 

Stream  sheets  of  flame,  in  fearful  play, 

Rolled  and  unrolled, 


96  FAUST. 

In  crimson  fold, 
They  float  and  flow  ! 

From  the  vaulted  space  above,  \ 

A  shuddering  horror  seems  to  move 
Down, — down  upon  me  creeps  and  seizes 
The  life's  blood,  in  its  grasp  that  freezes ; 
'Tis  thou — I  feel  thee.  Spirit,  near, 
Thou  hast  heard  the  spell,  and  thou 
Art  hovering  around  me  now ; 
Spirit !  to  my  sight  appear, 
How  my  heart  is  torn  in  sunder — 
All  my  thoughts  convulsed  with  wbnder — 
Every  faculty  and  feeling 
Strained  to  welcome  thy  revealing. 
Spirit,  my  heart,  my  heart  is  given  to  thee, 
Though  death  may  be  the  price,  I  cannot  choose  but  see  ! 
\He  grasps  the  hook,  and  pronounces  the  sign  of  the 
Spirit  mysteriously ;  a  red  flame  is  seen  playing 
about,  and  in  the  flame  the  Spirit. 

Spirit.  Who  calls  me  ? 

Faust,  [averting  his  face.']     Form  of  horror,  hence  ! 

Spirit.   Hither  from  my  distant  sphere. 
Thou  hast  compelled  me  to  appear; 
Hast  sucked  me  down,  and  dragged  me  thence. 
With  importuning  violence ; 
And  now 

Faust.  I  shudder,  overpowered  with  fear. 

Spirit.  Panting,  praying  to  look  on  me, 


FAUST.  97 

My  voice  to  listen,  my  face  to  see, 

Thy  soul's  strong  mandate  bends  me  down  to  thee. 

Here  am  I — here  and  now,  what  fear 

Seizes  thee  ? — thee — the  more  than  Man  ? 

Where  the  strong  soul,  that  could  dare 
Summon  Us,  Spirits  ?     Where 
The  soul,  that  could  conceive,  and  plan, 
Yea,  and  create  its  world  ;  whose  pride 
The  bounds  which  Hmit  Man  defied; 
Heaved  with  high  sense  of  inborn  powers. 
Nor  feared  to  mete  its  strength  with  ours. 
Where  art  thou,  Faust  ?  and,  were  the  accents  thine, 
That  rang  to  me  ?  the  soul  that  pressed  itself  to  mine  ? 
Art  thou  the  same,  whose  senses  thus  are  shattered, 
Whose  very  being  in  my  breath  is  scattered 
Shuddering  thro'  all  life's  depths — poor  writhing  worm  ! 

Faust.  Creature  of  flame,  shall  I  grow  pale  before  thee  ? 
I  am  he,  I  called  thee,  I  am  Faust,  thy  Equal ! 

Spirit.  In  the  currents  of  life,  in  the  tempests  of  motion, 
In  the  fervour  of  act,  in  the  fire,  in  the  storm, 

Hither  and  thither, 

Over  and  under, 

Wend  I  and  wander. 

Birth  and  the  grave 

Limitless  ocean, 
I  Where  the  restless  wave 

Undulates  ever, 


98  FAUST. 

Under  and  over 
Their  seething  strife, 
Heaving  and  weaving 
The  changes  of  Hfe. 
At  the  whirring  loom  of  Time  unawed, 
I  work  the  living  mantle  of  God. 
Fatist.  Swift  Spirit^  that    ever   round    the   v/ide    world 
heavest  ! 
How  near  I  feel  to  thee  ! 

Spirit.    Man,  thou  art  as  the   Spirit,  whom   thou  con- 
ceivest, 
Not  ME.  [Vanishes, 

Faust  [overpowered  with  co9ifusion\  Not  thee  ! 
Whom  then  ?     I  !  image  of  the  Deity ! 
And  not  even  such  as  thee  !  [A  knock. 

'Sdeath  !  'tis  this  pupil  lad  of  mine — 
He  comes  my  airy  guests  to  banish. 
This  elevating  converse  dread, 
These  visions,  dazzlingly  outspread 
Before  my  senses,  all  will  vanish 
At  the  formal  fellow's  tread  ! 

Enter  Wagner,  in  /us  dressing-gown  and  ni'-^lit-cap — a  lamp 
in  his  hand.     Faust  turns  round,  displeased. 

Wag.  Forgive  me,  but  I  thought  you  were  declaiming; 
Been  reciting  some  Greek  tragedy,  no  doubt ; 
I  wish  to  improve  myself  in  this  same  art ; 


FAUST,  99 

'Tis  a  most  useful  one.     I've  heard  it  said, 

An  actor  might  give  lessons  to  a  priest, 

Faust.  Yes  !  when  your  priest's  an  actor,  as  may  happen. 
Wag.  Oh  !  if  a  man  shuts  himself  up  for  ever 

In  his  dull  study ;  if  one  sees  the  world 

Never,  unless  on  some  chance  holyday. 

Looks  at  it  from  a  distance,  through  a  telescope, 

How  can  we  learn  to  sway  the  minds  of  men 

By  eloquence  ?  to  rule  them,  or  persuade  ? 

Faust.  If  feeling  does  not  prompt,  in  vain  you  strive ; 

If  from  the  soul  the  language  does  not  come, 

By  its  own  impulse,  to  impel  the  hearts 

Of  hearers,  with  communicated  power, 

In  vain  you  strive — in  vain  you  study  earnestly. 

Toil  on  for  ever ;  piece  together  fragments  ; 

Cook  up  your  broken  scraps  of  sentences, 

And  blow,  with  puffing  breath,  a  struggling  light, 

GHmmering  confusedly  now,  now  cold  in  ashes  ; 

Startle  the  school-boys  with  your  metaphors ; 

And,  if  such  food  may  suit  your  appetite. 

Win  the  vain  wonder  of  applauding  children  \ 

But  never  hope  to  stir  the  hea,rts  of  men. 

And  mould  the  souls  of  many  into  one. 

By  words  which  come  not  native  from  the  heart ! 
Wag.  Expression,  graceful  utterance,  is  the  first 

And  best  acquirement  of  the  orator. 

This  do  I  feel,  and  feel  my  want  of  it ! 


ICO  FAUST. 

Faust  Be  honest,  If  you  would  bt  eloquent; 
Be  not  a  chiming  fool  with  cap  and  bells ; 
Reason  and  genuine  feeling  want  no  arts 
Of  utterance — ask  no  toil  of  elocution ; 
And  when  you  are  in  earnest,  do  you  need 
A  search  for  words  ?     Oh !  these  fine  holyday  phrases, 
In  which  you  robe  your  worn-out  common-places, 
These  scraps  of  paper  which  you  crimp  and  curl. 
And  twist  into  a  thousand  idle  shapes, 
These  filigree  ornaments  are  good  for  nothing, 
Cost  time  and  pains,  please  few,  impose  on  no  one ; 
Are  unrefreshing,  as  the  wind  that  whistles, 
In  autumn,  'mong  the  dry  and  wrinkled  leaves. 

Wag.  The  search  of  knowledge  is  a  weary  one, 
And  life  how  short !  Ars  longa,  Vita  brevis  I 
How  often  have  the  heart  and  brain,  o'er-tasked, 
Shrunk  back  despairing  from  enquiries  vain  \ 
Oh  !  with  what  difficulty  are  the  means 
Acquired,  that  lead  us  to  the  springs  of  knowledge  ! 
And  when  the  path  is  found,  ere  we  have  trod 
Half  the  long  way — poor  wretches  !  we  must  die  ! 

Faust.  Are  mouldy  records,  then,  the  holy  springs, 
Whose  healing  waters  still  the  thirst  within  ? 
Oh  !  never  yet  hath  mortal  drunk 
A  draught  restorative. 
That  welled  not  from  the  depths  of  his  own  soul ! 

Wa:::.  Pardon  me — but  you  will  at  least  confess 


FAUST,  joi 

That  'tis  delightful  to  transfuse  yourself 

Into  the  spirit  of  the  ages  past ; 

To  see  how  wise  men  thought  in  olden  time, 

And  how  far  we  outstep  their  march  in  knowledge. 

Faust.  Oh  yes  !  as  far  as  from  the  earth  to  heaven  ! 
To  us,  my  friend,  the  times  that  are  gone  by 
Are  a  mysterious  book,  sealed  with  seven  seals : 
That  which  you  call  the  spirit  of  ages  past 
Is  but,  in  truth,  the  spirit  of  some  few  authors 
In  which  those  ages  are  beheld  reflected. 
With  what  distortion  strange  heaven  only  knows. 
Oh  !  often,  what  a  toilsome  thing  it  is 
This  study  of  thine,  at  the  first  glance  we  fly  it. 
A  mass  of  things  confusedly  heaped  together  ; 
A  lumber-room  of  dusty  documents, 
Furnished  with  all-approved  court-precedents^ 
And  old  traditional  maxims  !     History  ! 
Facts  dramatized  say  rather — action — plot — 
Sentiment,  every  thing  the  writer's  own. 
As  it  best  fits  the  web-work  of  his  story. 
With  here  and  there  a  solitary  fact 
Of  consequence,  by  those  grave  chroniclers, 
Pointed  with  many  a  moral  apophthegm, 
And  wise  old  saws,  learned  at  the  puppet-shows. 

Wag.  But  then  the  world,  man's  heart  and  mind,  are 
things 
Of  which  'twere  well  that  each  man  had  some  knowledge. 


103  FAUST. 

Faust  Why  yes  ! — they  call  it  knowledge.     Who  may  dare 
To  name  things  by  their  real  names  ?    The  few 
Who  did  know  something,  and  were  weak  enough 
To  expose  their  hearts  unguarded — to  expose 
Their  views  and  feelings  to  the  eyes  of  men, 
They  have  been  nailed  to  crosses — thrown  to  flames. 
Pardon  me ;  but  'tis  very  late,  my  friend  ; 
Too  late  to  hold  this  conversation  longer. 

Wagner.  How  willingly  would  I  sit  up  for  ever, 
Thus  to  converse  with  you  so  learnedly. 
To-morrow,  as  a  boon  on  Easter-day, 
You  must  permit  me  a  few  questions  more  : 
I  have  been  diligent  in  all  my  studies ; 
Given  my  whole  heart  and  time  to  the  pursuit ; 
And  I  know  much^  but  would  know  every  thing.         \Exif. 

Faust  \alone\.  How  hope    abandons   not   the   humblest 
mind  ! 
Poor  lad !  he  clings  to  learning's  poorest  forms, 
Delves  eagerly  for  fancied  gold  to  find 
Worms — dust  j  is  happy  among  dust  and  v/orms  ! 

Man's  voice,  and  such  a  man's,  and  did  it  dare 
Breathe  round  me  here,  where  Spirits  thronged  the  air  ? 
And  yet,  poor  humble  creature  that  thou  art, 
How  do  I  thank  thee  from  my  very  heart ! 
When  my  senses  sank  beneath 
Despair,  and  sought  relief  in  death  ; 


FAUST,  103 

When  life  within  me  dying  shivered, 
Thy  presence  from  the  trance  deUvered. 
Oh,  while  I  stood  before  that  giant  stature. 
How  dwarfed  I  felt  beneath  its  nobler  nature  ! 

Image  of  God  !  I  thought  that  I  had  been 
Sublimed  from  earth,  no  more  a  child  of  clay, 
That,  shining  gloriously  with  Heaven's  own  day, 
I  had  beheld  Truth's  countenance  serene. 
High  above  cherubs — above  all  that  serve. 
Raised  up  immeasurably- -every  nerve 
Of  Nature's  life  seemed  animate  with  mine  ; 
Her  very  veins  with  blood  from  my  veins  filled — 
Her  spirit  moving  as  my  spirit  willed  ; 
Then  did  I  in  creations  of  my  own 
(Oh,  is  not  man  in  every  thing  divine  !) 
Build  worlds — or  bidding  them  no  longer  be — 
Exert,  enjoy  a  sense  of  deity — • 
Doomed  for  such  dreams  presumptuous  to  alone  i 
All  by  one  vs^ord  of  thunder  overthrown  ! 

Spirit,  I  may  not  nlete  myself  with  thee  ! 
True,  I  compelled  thee  to  appear. 
But  had  no  power  to  hold  thee  here. 
Oh  1  in  that  rapturous  moment  how  I  felt— « 
How  little  and  how  great  !  and  thus  to  be 
With  savage  scorn  fiercely  flung  back  upon 
I'he  lot  to  mortals  dealt. 


104  FAUST. 

And  its  uncertainties  !  again  the  prey 

Of  deep  disquietude  !  with  none 

To  guide  me  on  my  way, 

Or  shew  me  what  to  shun  ! 

That  impulse  goads  me  on — shall  I  obey  ? 

Alas  !  'tis  not  our  sufferings  alone, 

But  even  our  acts  obstruct  us  and  delay 

Our  life's  free  flow. 

To  what  man's  spirit  conceives 
Of  purest,  best,  some  foreign  growth  still  cleaves, 
We  seize  what  this  world  gives  of  good,  and  deem 
All  Better  a  deception  and  a  dream. 
High  feelings,  that  in  us  to  life  gave  birth, 
Are  numbed  and  wither  in  the  coil  of  earth. 

How  boldly,  in  the  days  of  youthful  Hope, 
Imagination  spreads  her  wing  unchecked. 
Deeming  all  things  within  her  ample  scope, 
To  the  Eternal  !  and  how  small  a  space 
Suffices  her  when  Fortune  flees  apace. 
And  all  we  loved  in  life's  strange  whirl  is  wrecked ! 
Deep  in  the  breast  Care  builds  her  nest, 
Rocks  restlessly  and  scares  away  all  rest. 
Some  secret  sorrow  still  the  envious  one 
Keeps  stirring  at  till  peace  and  joy  are  gone. 
Each  day  she  masks  her  in  some  new  disguise, 
Each  day  with  some  new  trick  the  temper  tries, 


FAUST, 

Is  House  and  Homestead,  Child  and  Wife, 
Fire,  Water,  Poison,  Dagger-knife.  ^ 

Evils  that  never  come  disquiet  thee 
Evermore  mourning  losses  not  to  be  ! 

I  am  not  like  the  gods.     No  !  no  !  I  tremble, 
Feeling  impressed  upon  my  mind  the  thought, 
Of  the  mean  worm  whose  nature  I  resemble. 
'Tis  dust,  and  lives  in  dust,  and  the  chance  tread 
Crushes  the  wretched  reptile  into  nought. 

Is  this  not  dust  in  which  I  live  ? 
This  prison- place,  what  can  it  give 
Of  life  or  comfort  ?  wheresoe'er 
The  sick  eye  turns,  it  sees  one  tier — 
Along  the  blank  high  wall — of  shelves 
And  gloomy  volumes,  which  themselves 
Are  dust  and  lumber  ;  and  the  scrolls 
That  crowd  the  hundred  pigeon-holes 
And  crevices  of  that  old  case — 
That  darkens  and  confines  the  space 
Already  but  too  small — 'mong  these 
What  can  life  be  but  a  disease? 
Here  housed  in  dust,  with  grub  and  motli, 
I  sicken — mind  and  body  both. 
— Shall  I  find  here  the  cure  I  ask, 
Resume  the  edifying  task  ■  j 

Of  reading,  in  a  thousand  pages, 


105 


io6  FAUST, 

That  care-worn  man  has,  in  all  ages, 
Sowed  Vanity  to  reap  Despair  ? 
That  one,  mayhap,  has  here  and  there 
Been  less  unhappy  ? 

Hollow  Skull, 
I  almost  fancy  I  divine 
A  meaning  in  thy  spectral  smile. 
Saith  it  not  that  thy  brain,  like  mine, 
Still  loved,  and  sought  the  Beautiful ; 
Loved  Truth  for  Truth's  own  sake  \  and  sought, 
Regardless  of  aught  else  the  while. 
Like- mine,  the  light  of  cloudless  day — 
And,  in  unsatisfying  thought 
By  twilight  glimmers  led  astray. 
Like  mine  at' length  sank  over- wrought? 

Every  thing  fails  me — every  thing — 
These  instruments,  do  they  not  all 
Mock  me  ?  lathe,  cylinder,  and  ring, 
And  cog  and  wlieel — in  vain  I  call 
On  you  for  aid,  ye  keys  of  Science, 
I  stand  before  the  guarded  door 
Of  Nature  ;  but  it  bids  defiance 
To  latch  or  ward  :  in  vain  I  prove 
^^our  powers — the  strong  bolts  will  not  move. 
Mysterious,  in  the  blaze  of  day. 
Nature  pursues  her  tranquil  v/ay : 


FAUST, 

The  veil  she  v/ears,  if  hand  profane 
Should  seek  to  raise,  it  seeks  in  vain, 
Though  from  her  spirit  thine  receives, 
When  hushed  it  listens  and  believes, 
Secrets — revealed,  else  vainly  sought, 
Her  free  gift  when  man  questions  not,— 
Think  not  with  levers  or  v/ith  screws 
To  wring  them  out  if  she  refuse. 

Old  Furniture — cumbrous  and  mean  ! 

It  is  not,  has  not  ever  been 

Of  use  to  me — why  here  ?  because 

My  father's  furniture  it  v/as ! 

— Old  Roll ;  and  here  it  still  remains, 

And  soiled  with  smoke,  its  very  stains 

Might  count  how  many  a  year  the  light 

Hath,  from  this  desk,  through  the  dead  night, 

Burn'd  in  its  sad  lamp,  nothing  bright ! 

— 'Twere  better  did  I  dissipate. 

Long  since,  my  little  means,  than  be 

Crushed,  down  and  cumbered  with  its  weight : 

All  that  thy  fathers  leave  to  thee, 

At  once  enjoy  it — thus  alone 

Can  man  make  any  thing  his  own ; 

A  hindrance  all  that  we  employ  not— 

A  burden  all  that  we  enjoy  not. 

He  knows,  who  rightly  estimates, 


107 


io8  FAUST, 

That  what  the  moment  can  employ, 
What  it  requires  and  can  enjoy, 
The  MOMENT  for  itself  creates. 

What  can  it  be,  that  thither  draws 
The  eye,  and  holds  it  there,  as  though 
The  flask  a  very  magnet  were  ? 
And  whence,  oh,  whence  this  lavish  glow, 
This  lustre  of  enchanted  light, 
Pour'd  down  at  once,  and  every  where — 
Birth  of  the  moment — like  the  flood 
Of  splendour  round  us,  when  at  night 
Breathes  moonlight  over  a  wide  wood? 

Oh  phial ! — happy  phial ! — here 

Hope  is, — I  greet  thee, — I  revere 

Thee  as  Art's  best  result — in  Thee 

Science  and  Mind  triumphant  see, — 

Essence  of  all  sweet  slumber-dews  ! 

Spirit  of  all  most  delicate 

Yet  deadliest  powers  ! — be  thou  my  friend- 

A  true  friend — thou  wilt  not  refuse 

Thine  own  old  master  this ! — I  gaze 

On  thee — the  pain  subsides — the  weight 

That  pressed  me  down  less  heavy  Aveighs. 

I  grasp  thee — faithful  friend  art  thou  : — ■ 
Already  do  I  feel  the  strife 


FAUST.  109 

That  preyed  upon  my  powers  of  life 

Calmed  into  peace  ;  and  now — and  now 

The  swell,  that  troubled  the  clear  spring 

Of  my  vext  spirit,  ebbs  away  ; 

Outspread,  like  ocean,  Life  and  Day 

Shine  with  a  glow  of  welcoming  ; — 

Calm  at  my  feet  the  glorious  mirror  lies, 

And  tempts  to  far-off  shores,  with  smiles  from  other  skies  I 

And,  lo  !  a  car  of  fire  to  me 
GHdes  softly  hither  ;  from  within 
Come  winged  impulses,  to  bear 
The  child  of  earth  to  freer  air  : 
Already  do  I  seem  to  win 
My  happy  course,  from  bondage  free, 
On  paths  unknown,  to  climes  unknown, 
Glad  spheres  of  pure  activity  ! 
Powers  yet  unfelt — worlds  yet  untrod-— 
And  life,  poured  every  where  abroad, 
And  rapture  worthy  of  a  God  ! 
— Worm  that  thou  art,  and  can  it  be 
Such  joy  is  thine,  is  given  to  thee  ? 
Determine  only, — 'tis  thy  own  ; 
Say  thy  firm  farewell  to  the  sun. 
The  kindly  sun — its  smiling  earth — 
One  moment,  one,— and  all  is  done, — 
One  pang — then  comes  the  second  birth ! 


no  FAUST, 

— Find  life  where  others  fear  to  die  ; 
Take  measure  of  thy  strength,  and  burst — 
Burst  wide  the  gate  of  Hberty  ; 
— Show,  by  man's  acts  man's  spirit  durst 
Meet  God's  own  eye,  and  wax  not  dim ; 
Stand  fearless,  face  to  face  with  Him ! 

Shudder  not  now  at  that  blank  cave 
Where,  in  self-torturing  disease. 
Pale  Fancy  hears  sad  Spirits  rave. 
And  is  herself  the  hell  she  sees. 
— Press  through  the  strait,  where  stands  Despair 
Guarding  it,  and  the  fiery  wave 
Boils  up, — and  know  no  terror  there  ! 
Determine  ;— be  of  happy  cheer 
In  this  high  hour — be  thy  advance 
The  proud  step  of  a  triumph-day  ; 
— Be  firm,  and  cast  away  all  fear ; — 
And  freely^ — if  such  be  the  chance — 
Flow  into  nothingness  away  ! 

And  thou,  clear  crystal  goblet,  welcome  thou ! 
Old  friend  and  faithful,  from  thy  antique  case 
Come  forth  with  gay  smile  now, 
As  gently  I  displace 

The  time-stain'd  velvet ;  years  unnumbered, 
Forgotten  hast  thou  slumbered  ; 
Once  bright  at  many  a  festival, 
When,  in  the  old  man's  liall, 


FAUST,  II J 

Old  friends  were  gathered  all, 

And  thou  with  mirth  didst  light  grave  features  up, 

On  days  of  high  festivity, 

And  family  solemnity, 

As  each  to  each  passed  on  the  happy  cup  ; 

Its  massy  pride,  the  figures  rich  and  old, 

Of  curious  carving,  and  the  merry  task 

Of  each  (thus  did  our  pleasant  customs  ask) 

Who  drank,  the  quaint  old  symbols  to  unfold, 

In  rhymes  made  at  the  moment ;  then  the  mask 

Of  serious  seeming^  as  at  one  long  draught 

Each  guest  the  full  deep  goblet  duly  quaffed ; 

The  old  cup,  the  old  customs,  the  old  rhymes, 

All  now  are  with  me  :  all,  that  of  old  times 

Can  speak,  are  speaking  to  my  heart  ]  the  nights 

Of  boyhood,  and  their  manifold  dehghts ; 

Oh  !  never  more  to  gay  friend  sitting  next 

Shall  my  hand  reach  thee  ;  never  more  from  me 

Shall  merry  rhyme  illustrate  the  old  text. 

And  into  meaning  read  each  mystery ; 

This  is  a  draught  that,  if  the  brain  still  think, 

Will  set  it  thinking  in  another  mood  ; 

Old  cup,  now  fill  thee  with  the  dark  brov/n  flood  ; 

It  is  my  choice  ;  I  mixed  it,  and  will  drink : 

My  last  draught  this  on  earth  I  dedicate, 

(And  with  it  be  my  heart  and  spirit  borne  !) 

A  festal  offering  to  the  rising  morn. 

\^IIe  places  the  goblet  to  his  vtoitth 


H2  FAUST. 

Bells  heard^  and  voices  i?i  chorw:, 

Easter  Hymn.— C/^^z-z/j  ^Angels. 

Christ  is  from  the  grave  arisen, 
Joy  is  His.     For  Him  the  weary 
Earth  hath  ceased  its  thraldom  dreary, 
And  the  cares  that  prey  on  mortals  : 
He  hath  burst  the  grave's  stern  portals  ; 

The  grave  is  no  prison  : 

The  Lord  hath  arisen  ! 

Faust.  Oh,   those   deep  sounds,  those  voices  rich    and 
heavenly  ! 
How  powerfully  they  sway  the  soul,  and  force 
The  cup  uplifted  from  the  eager  lips  ! 
Proud  bells,  and  do  your  peals  already  ring, 
To  greet  the  joyous  dawn  of  Easter-morn  ? 
And  ye,  rejoicing  choristers,  already 
Flows  forth  your  solemn  song  of  consolation  ? 
That  song,  which  once,  from  angel  lips  resounding 
Around  the  midnight  of  the  grave,  was  heard, 
The  pledge  and  proof  of  a  new  covenant ! 

Hymn  continiied. — Chorus  of  Women* 

We  laid  Him  for  burial 

'Mong  aloes  and  myrrh  ; 
His  children  and  friends 

Laid  their  dead  Master  here  I 


F/IUST,  11  z 

Ail  wrapt  in  His  grave-dresS; 

We  left  Him  in  fear — 
Ah !  where  shall  we  seek  Him  ? 

The  Lord  is  not  here  ! 

Chorus  ^Angels. 

The  Lord  hath  arisen, 

Sorrow  no  longer ; 
Temptation  hath  tried  Him, 

But  He  was  the  stronger. 
Happy,  happy  victory ! 

Love,  submission,  self-denial 
Marked  the  strengthening  agony, 

Marked  the  purifying  trial ; 
The  grave  is  no  prison  : 
The  Lord  hath  arisen. 

Faiist.  Soft  sounds,  that  breathe  of  Heaven,  most  mild, 
most  powerful, 
What  seek  ye  here  ? — Why  will  ye  come  to  me 
In  dusty  gloom  immersed  ?— Oh  !  rather  speak 
To  hearts  of  soft  and.  penetrable  mould  ! 
I  hear  your  message,  but  I  have  not  faith — 
And  Miracle  is  fond  Faith's  favourite  child  ! 
I  cannot  force  myself  into  the  spheres, 
Where  these  good  tidings  of  great  joy  are  heard; 
And  yet,  from  youth  familiar  with  the  sounds. 


114  FAUST, 

Even  now  they  call  me  back  again  to  life  ; 

Oh !  once,  in  boyhood's  happy  time,  Heaven's  love 

Showered  down  upon  me,  with  mysterious  kiss 

Hallowipg  the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath-day  ! 

Feelings  resistless,  incommunicable, 

Yearnings  for  something  that  I  knew  not  of. 

Deep  meanings  in  the  full  tones  of  the  bells 

Mingled — a  prayer  was  burning  ecstasy — 

Drove  me,  a  wanderer  through  lone  fields  and  woods; 

Then  tears  rushed  hot!  and  fast — then  was  the  birth 

Of  a  new  life  and  a  new  world  for  me  ; 

These  bells  announced  the  merry  sports  of  youth, 

This  music  welcomed  in  the  happy  spring ; 

And  now  am  I  once  more  a  little  child, 

And  old  Remembrance,  twining  round  my  heart, 

Forbids  this  act,  and  checks  my  daring  steps — 

Then  sing  ye  on — sweet  songs  that  are  of  Heaven  ! 

Tears  come,  and  Earth  hath  won  her  child  again. 

Hymn  continued. — Chorus  ^Disciples. 

He,  who  was  buried, 

Hath  burst  from  the  grave ! 

From  death  re-assuming 
The  life  that  He  gave, 

Is  risen  in  glory, 
Is  mighty  to  save  ! 


FAUST. 

And  onward — still  onward 

Arising,  ascend ing^ 
To  the  right  hand  of  Power 

And  Joy  never-ending. 

Enthroned  in  brightness, 
His  labours  are  over  ; 

On  earth  His  disciples 
Still  struggle  and  suffer ! 

His  children  deserted 
Disconsolate  languish— 

Thou  art  gone,  and  to  glory- 
Hast  left  us  in  anguish ! 


Chorus  of  Angels. 

Christ  is  arisen, 

The  Lord  hath  ascended  ^ 
The  dominion  of  death 

And  corruption  is  ended. 

Your  work  of  obedience 
Haste  to  begin  ; 

Break  from  the  bondage 
Of  Satan  and  Sin. 

In  your  lives  his  laws  obey 
Let  love  your  governed  bosoms  sway- 
Blessings  to  the  poor  convey, 


ii6  FAUST. 

To  God  with  humble  spirit  pray, 
To  Man  His  benefits  display  : 
Act  thus,  and  He,  your  Master  dear, 
Though  unseen,  is  ever  near  1 

BEFORE  THE  GATE. 

Perso7is  of  all  descriptions  strolling  out 

A  Party  of  Tradesmen.  What  are  you  going  for  in  thi-.t 
direction  ? 

Second  Party.  We  are  going  to  the  Jagerhaus. 

First  Party.  And  we 

Are  strolling  down  to  the  Mill. 

A  Tradesman.  I  would  advise  you 

Rather  to  take  a  walk  to  the  Wasserhof. 

A  Second.  The  road  to  it  is  not  a  pleasant  one. 

Second  Party.  What  are  you  for  ? 

A  Third,  I  go  with  the  other  party. 

A  Fourth,  Take  my  advice,  and  let  us  come  to  Burgdorf : 
There,  any  way,  we  shall  be  sure  of  finding 
The  prettiest  girls,  and  the  brownest  beer. 
And  lots  of  rows  in  the  primest  style. 

A  Fifth.  What,  boy, 

Art  at  it  still  ?  two  drubbings,  one  would  think, 
Might  satisfy  a  reasonable  man. 
I  won't  go  there  with  you — I  hate  the  place  ! 

Servant  ATaid.  No  !  no  ! — not  I — I'll  go  back  to  the  town 


FAUST.  117 

Another.  We'll  find  him  surely  waiting  at  the  poplars. 

The  First.  Great   good   is    that    to  me, — he'll   give   his 
arm 
To  you — and  dance  with  you — and  wliy  should  I  go 
For  nothing  in  the  world  but  your  amusement  ? 

The  Second.  To-day  he'll  certainly  not  be  alone, 
His  curly-headed  friend  will  be  with  him. 

Student.  Look  there— look  there — how  well   those  girls 
step  out — 
Come,  brother,  come  let's  keep  them  company. 
Stiff  beer^  biting  tobacco,  and  a  girl 
In  her  smart  dress,  are  the  best  things  I  know. 

Citizen^ s  Daiigh.  Only    look    there — what  pretty   fellows 
these  are  I 
'Tis  quite  a  shame,  when  they  might  have  the  best 
Of  company,  to  see  them  running  after 
A  pair  of  vulgar  minxes — servant  girls. 

Second  Stii.  \to  the  first\  Stay,  easy — here  are  two  fine 
girls  behind  us, 
Showily  dressed.     I  know  one  of  them  well — 
And,  I  may  say,  am  half  in  love  with  her. 
Innocent  things  !  with  what  a  modest  gait 
And  shy  step  they  affect  to  pace  ;  and  yet, 
For  all  their  bashfulness,  they'll  take  us  with  them. 

First  Stii.  Join  them,  yourseh — not  I — I  hate  restraint. 
Let  us  not  lose  time  with  them,  or  the  game  escapes, 
Give  me  the  girl  that  gives  a  man  no  trouble, 


ii8  FAUST. 

That  on  the  week-days  does  her  week-day  work, 
And,  the  day  after,  work  that  she  loves  better. 

Citizen.  Well,  I  do  not  like  this  new  burgomaster. 
Not  a  day  passes  but  he  grows  more  insolent, 
Forsooth  1  presuming  on  his  dignity. 
And  what  good  is  he  to  us  after  all  ? 
The  town  is  growing  worse  from  day  to  day, 
They  are  more  strict  upon  us  now  than  ever, 
And  raise  continually  the  rates  and  taxes. 
Beggar  \si?igs\ 

Masters  good,  and  ladies  bnght^ 

Rosy-cheeked.,  and  richly  dressed^ 
Look  upon  a  wretched  sight, 

And  relieve  the  poor  distressed: 
Let  me  not  in  vain  implore  ! 

Fity  me  I — with  chime  and  voice 
Would  I  cheer  you — let  the  poor 

When  all  else  are  glad,  rejoice  ! 
L  must  beg,  J  or  I  must  live. 

Help  me  I  blessed  they  who  give  I 
When  all  other  men  ai'e  gay 
Is  the  beggar's  harvest  day. 
Second  Cit.  Well !  give  me,  on  a  saint's  day,  or  a  Sunday, 
When  we  have  time  for  it,  a  tale  of  war 
And  warlike  doings  far  away  in  Turkey — 
How  they  are  busy  killing  one  another. 
'Tis  pleasant  to  stand  gazing  from  the  window, 


FAUST.  119 

Draining  your  glass  at  times,  and  looking  on 
The  painted  barges  calmly  gliding  down 
The  easy  river.     Then  the  homeward  walk 
In  the  cool  evening  hour  ;  tliis  makes  the  heart 
•Glad,  and  at  peace  with  all  things  and  itself. 
Yes  !  give  me  peace  at  home,  and  peaceful  times  ! 

Third  Cit.  Ay,  so  say  I — break  every  head  abroad — 
Turn  all  things  topsy-turvy,  so  they  leave  us 
Quiet  at  home. 

Old    Woman  \io  the  Citizen's   Daughters].    Ha  !  but 
you  are  nicely  dressed, 
And  very  pretty  creatures— you'll  win  hearts 
To-day — ay,  that  you  will — only  don't  look 
So  very  proud — yes  !  that  is  something  better — 
I  know  ^vhat  my  young  pets  are  wishing  for, 
And  thinking  of,  and  they  shall  have  it  too ! 

Citizen's  Dan.  Come,  Agatha,    come    on — I'd   not    be 
seen 
With  the  old  witch  in  public ;  yet  she  showed  me, 
On  last  St.  Andrew's  night,  in  flesh  and  blood, 
My  future  lover. 

The  Other.  In  the  glass  she  showed 
Me  mine.     The  figure  was  a  soldier's,  and 
With  him  a  band  of  gay  bold  fellows.     Since, 
I  have  been  looking  round,  and  seeking  for  him. 
But  all  in  vain — 'tis  folly — he  woii't  come. 

Soldier.   Toivns  with  turrets^  avails,  arid  fences^ 


I20  FAUST. 

Maidens  with  their  haughty  glances. 
These  the  soldiei'  seeks  with  ardour, 
Say  to  conquer  ivJiicJi  is  harder? 
Death  and  danger  he  despises, 
When  he  looks  upon  the  prizes. 
Danger  is  the  soldier's  duty, 
And  his  prize  is  fame  and  beauty.     • 

Rush  we,  at  the  truiupefs  measure, 
With  blithe  hearts  to  death  and  pleasure  ; 

How  the  soldier's  blood  is  warming 
When  we  think  of  cities  storming  ! 

Fortress  strong,  and  maiden  te?ider, 

Must  alike  to  us  surrender. 

Danger  is  the  soldier's  duty, 

But  his  prize  is  fame  and  beauty. 

Faust.  River  and  rivulet  are  freed  from  ice 
In  Spring's  affectionate  inspiring  smile — 
Green  are  the  fields  with  promise — far  away 
To  the  rough  hills  old  Winter  hath  withdrawn 
Strengthless — but  still  at  intervals  will  send 
Light  feeble  frosts,  with  drops  of  diamond  wliitc 
Mocking  a  little  while  the  coming  bloom— 
Still  soils  with  showers  of  sharp  and  bitter  sleet. 
In  anger  impotent,  the  earth's  green  robe; 
But  the  sun  suffers  not  the  lingering  snow — 
Every  where  life — every  where  vegetation 


FAUST.  121 

All  nature  animate  with  glowing  hues — 

Or,  if  one  spot  be  touched  not  by  the  spirit 

Of  the  sweet  season,  there,  in  colours  rich     . 

As  trees  or  flowers,  are  sparkling  human  dresses  ! 

Turn  round,  and  from  this  height  look  back  upon 

The  town  :  from  its  black  dungeon  gate  forth  pours, 

In  thousand  parties,  the  gay  multitude. 

All  happy,  all  indulging  in  the  sunshine  ! 

All  celebrating  the  Lord's  resurrection, 

And  in  themselves  exhibiting  as  'twere 

A  resurrection  too— so  changed  are  they, 

So  raised  above  themselves.     From  chambers  damp 

Of  poor  mean  houses — from  consuming  toil 

Laborious — from  the  work-yard  and  the  shop— 

From  the  imprisonment  of  walls  and  roofs, 

And  the  oppression  of  confining  streets, 

And  from  the  solemn  twilight  of  dim  churches — 

All  are  abroad — all  happy  in  the  sun. 

Look,  only  look,  with  gaiety  how  acdve. 

Through  fields  and  gardens  they  disperse  themselves ! 

How  the  wide  water,  far  as  we  can  see. 

Is  joyous  with  innumerable  boats  ! 

See,  there,  one  almost  sinking  with  its  load, 

Parts  from  the  shore ;  yonder  the  hill-top  paths 

Are  sparkling  in  the  distance  with  gay  dresses  ! 

And,  hark!  the  sounds  of  joy  from  the  far  village! 

This  is  the  people's  very  heaven  on  earth  I 


122  FAUST, 

The  high,  the  low,  in  pleasure  all  uniting — 
Here  may  I  feel  that  I  too  am  a  man ! 

Wag.  Doctor,  'to  steal  about  with  you.  'tis  plain 
Is  creditable,  brings  its  own  great  gain. 
But  otherwise,  I'd  never  throw  away 
My  time  in  such  a  place.     I  so  detest 
Everything  vulgar — hear  them  !  how  they  play 
Their  creaking  fiddles — hark  the  kettle-drums  ; 
And  their  damned  screaming  to  the  ear  that  comes 
Worse,  if  'twere  possible,  than  all  the  rest. 
They  rave  like  very  devils  let  loose  on  earth— 
This  they  call  singing  ! — this,  they  say,  is  mirth  ! 

Peasants,  \dancing  and  suiging?^  The  sheplierd  for  the 
dance  is  drest 
In  ribands,  wreath,  and  flashy  vest ; 
Round  and  round  like  mad  they  spin 
To  the  fiddle's  lively  din. 
All  are  dancing  full  of  glee, 
All  beneath  the  linden  tree. 

'Tis  merry  and  merry — heigh-hO;  heigh-ho, 
Blithe  goes  the  fiddle-bow  ! 

Soon  he  runs  to  join  the  rest ; 
Up  to  a  pretty  girl  he  prest ; 
With  elbow  raised  and  pointed  toe, 
Bent  to  her  with  his  best  bow — 
Pressed  her  hand  :  with  feigned  surprise, 


FAUST.  12; 

Up  she  raised  her  timid  eyes  ! 

"'Tis  strange  that  you  should  use  me  so, 

So,  so — heigh-ho — 

'Tis  rude  of  you  to  use  me  so."  : 

All  into  the  set  advance, 

Right  they  dance,  and  left  they  dance — 

Gowns  and  ribands  how  they  fling, 

Flying  with  the  flying  ring  ; 

They  grew  red,  and  faint,  and  warm, 

And  rested,  sinking,  arm  in  arm. 

Slow,  slow,  heigh-ho, 

Tired  in  elbow,  foot,  and  toe  ! 

"  And  do  not  make  so  free,"  she  said ; 
"  I  fear  that  you  may  never  wed  ; 
Men  are  cruel " — and  he  prest 
The  maiden  to  his  beating  breast. 
Hark  !  again,  the  sounds  of  glee 
Swelling  from  the  linden  tree, 

'Tis  merry,  'tis  merry — heigh-ho,  heigh-ho, 

BHthe  goes  the  iiddle-bow  ! 
Old  Peas.  This,  doctor,  is  so  kind  of  you, 
A  man  of  rank  and  learning  too  ; 
Who,  but  yourself,  would  condescend 
Thus  with  the  poor,  the  poor  man's  friend, 


124 


FA  UST. 


To  join  our  sports  ?     In  this  brown  cheer 

Accept  the  pledge  we  tender  here, 

A  draught  of  Hfe  may  it  become 

And  years  on  years,  oh  !  may  you  reach, 

As  cheerful  as  these  beads  of  foam, 

As  countless,  too,  a  year  for  each  ! 

Faust.  Blest  be  the  draught  restorative  ! 
I  pledge  you — happy  may  you  live  ! 

\TJie  people  collect  in  a  circle  roimd  him. 

Old  Peas.  Yes  !  witness  thou  the  poor  man's  glee, 
And  share  in  his  festivity  : 
In  this  hath  fortune  fairly  dealt 
With  him  who,  in  the  evil  day 
Of  the  black  sickness,  with  us  dwelt, 
When  Plague  was  numbering  his  prey — 
In  strength  and  health  how  many  gather 
To  this  day's  pastimes,  whom  thy  father 
Rescued  from  death  in  that  last  stage, 
When  the  disease,  tired  out  at  length 
Is  followed  by  the  fever's  rage, 
And  prostrate  sinks  the  vital  strength  ; 
And  you^  too,  in  that  time  of  dread 
And  death,  a  young  man,  visited 
Each  house  of  sickness  : — evermore, 
Day  after  day,  tlie  black  hearse  bore 
Corse  after  corse — still,  day  by  day, 
The  good  man  held  his  fearless  way  • 


FAUST,  125 

Unscathed;  for  God  3.  blessing  gave, 
And  saved  the  man  who  sought  to  save. 

All.  For  thee,  tried  friend,  our  prayers  we  raise, 
And,  when  we  wish  thee  length  of  days, 
'Tis  for  himself  that  each  man  prays. 

Faust.  In  thanks  to  the  great  Father  bend, 
We  are  but  servants  to  extend 
Blessings,  that  flow  from  man's  one  Friend. 

\Goes  on  with  Wagner. 

Wag.  With  what  a  sense  of  pure  delight, 
Master,  must  thou  enjoy  the  sight 
Of  this  vast  crowd,  and  the  unchecked 
Expression  of  their  deep  respect ! 
Oh,  happy  he,  who  thus  to  Heaven 
Can  render  back  the  talents  given  ! 
The  pious  father  points  thee  out 
To  his  young  folk— they  gaze,  and  ask, 
And  gaze  again — and  crowd  about. 
The  blithe  musician  in  his  task 
Pauses — the  dancers  turn  to  thee. 
And  gather  into  rows  to  see 
The  man  they  honour  passing  by— 
And  then  the  gratulating  shout — 
And  then  the  caps  flung  up  on  high  : 
They  almost  worship  thee — almost 
Would  bend  the  knee  as  to  the  Host. 

Faust.  To  yonder  rock  is  but  a  few  steps  on — 


126  FAUST. 

After  our  long  walk  we  may  rest  us  there. 

Here  oft  I've  sate  to  muse ;  here  all  alone 
By  vigil,  fast,  and  agonies  of  prayer 
— In  Hope  then  rich,  in  Faith  unwavering. 
With  tears  and  sighs,  here  was  I  wont  to  pray, 
— And  supplicating  hands,  as  though  to  wring 
From  Him  in  heaven  that  He  the  plague  would  stay. 
To  me  the  praise  I  hear  is  mockery. 
Oh  !  that  you  could  into  my  bosom  gaze, 
Read  written  there  how  little  worthy  we, 
Father  or  son,  of  these  poor  people's  praise. 
My  father,  a  reserved  and  moody  man 
On  Nature's  holy  circles  still  would  pore, 
With  honest  ardour,  after  some  strange  plan 
That  pleased  his  fancy,  toiling  evermore. 
And  he  would  shut  himself  in  secret  cell, 
One  or  two  adepts  always  at  his  side. 
Quaint  recipes  with  fire  and  crucible, 
In  tliis  dark  kitchen  evermore  he  tried. 
Watching  for  the  great  moment's  birth  that  might 
Antagonistic  elements  unite. 
There  in  the  gentle  bath  a  Lion  Red, 
Bold  wooer  he — was  to  the  Lily  wed  ; 
And  both  were,  while  the  furnace  fire  raged  bright ; 
Hurried  in  torture  on  from  bed  to  bed. 
If  in  the  glass  was  given  us  to  behold 


FAUST.  127 

The  YouDg  Queen  rise  in  colours  manifold, 
Here  was  the  medicine — the  patients  died. 
None  asked  "  Who  took  it  and  remained  alive  ?" 
— Thus  in  these  mountains — in  these  valleys  wide, 
Our  cure  was  than  the  plague  a  plague  more  fierce. 
To  thousands  have  I  given  the  poison — they 
Have  withered — they  are  dead — and  I  survive 
To  hear  praise  lavished  on  their  murderers. 

Wag.  How  can  this  be  so  painful?     What  can  men 
Do  more  than  in  their  practice  still  obey 
The  precepts  of  the  science  of  their  day  ? 
What  you  have  from  your  father  heard  was  then 
Heard  in  the  docile  spirit  of  belief. 
You  in  your  day  extend  the  limit-line 
Of  science  5  in  due  time  your  son  will  tajkc 
His  place—and  for  himself  discoveries  make 
Greater  than  thine,  perhaps — yet  but  for  thine 
Impossible.     If  so  then,  why  this  grief  .^ 

Faust.  Happy  who  still  hath  hope  to  rise  above 
This  sea  of  error;  strange  that  we  in  vain 
Seek  knowledge  each  day  needs  :  the  knowledge  of 
What  never  can  avail  us  we  attain. 
But  with  such  musings  let  us  sadden  not 
This  sweet  hour  !  see,  where,  in  the  sunset,  gleam 
The  village  huts  with  green  trees  smiling  round 
Each  cottage  in  its  own  small  garden  plot. 
But  the  Sun  sinks— day  dies,  and  it  would  seem 


128  FAUST. 

With  day  the  Sun.     But  still  doth  he  survive, 
Still  speeds  he  on  with  life-diffusing  beam — 
Oh,  that  no  wing  uplifts  me  from  the  ground, 
Nearer  and  nearer  after  him  to  strive ! 
Then  should  I  the  reposing  world  behold 
Still  in  this  everlasting  evening  glow. 
The  hill-tops  kindling  all — the  vales  at  rest — 
The  silver  brooklet  in  its  silent  flow 
To  where  the  yellow  splendour  of  the  West 
On  the  far  river  lies  in  trembling  gold. 
In  vain  the  rugged  mountain  rears  his  breast, 
AVith  darkening  cliff  and  cave  to  bar  my  way, 
Onward  in  heaven,  still  onward  is  my  flight, 
And  now  wide  ocean,  with  each  fervid  bay, 
In  sudden  brightness  breaks  upon  my  sight, 
Till  sinking  seems  at  last  the  god  of  day. 
Then  the  new  instinct  wakens,  and  I  breathe 
Heaven  still — still  drink  of  his  undying  light. 
Before  me  day — behind  m.e  is  the  night- 
Above  me  heaven — ^and  the  wide  wave  beneath, 
A  glorious  dream — illusion  brief  and  bright — 
For  while  I  yet  am  dreaming  he  is  gone. 
Alas  !  from  its  captivity  of  earth, 
The  body  hath  no  wing  whereon  to  rise, 
And  with  the  winged  spirit  voyage  on  : 
And  yet  will  every  one  of  hum.an  birth 
The  feelinf![  in  our  nature  recognize, 


FAUST,  129 

That  for  a  moment  with  a  sense  of  wings 
Uplifts  us,  bears  us  onward  and  away, 
When  high  above,  in  blue  space  lost,  his  lay 
Thrilling  the  skylark  sings. 
When  over  piny  headlands,  savage  steeps, 
Outspread  the  eagle' sweeps. 
And  over  moorlands,  over  main, 
Homeward,  homeward  strives  the  crane. 

Wag.  I,  too,  of  reverie  oft  have  had  my  moods, 
But  impulse  such  as  this  they  never  bring. 
The  eye  soon  has  enough  of  fields  and  woods  ; 
I  never  had  a  wish  for  a  bird's  wing — 
Far  other  are  the  thinking  man's  delights. 
From  book  to  book,  from  leaf  to  leaf  they  lead, 
And  bright  and  cheerful  are  his  winter  nights. 
Life,  happy  life,  warms  every  limb — Unroll, 
At  such  charmed  hour,  some  precious  parchment  scroll. 
All  heaven  descends  upon  you  as  you  read. 

Faust.  You  feel  but  the  one  impulse  now — oh  learn 
Never  to  know  the  other !  in  my  breast 
Alas  !  two  souls  dwell — all  there  is  unrest ; 
Each  with  the  other  strives  for  mastery, 
Each  from  the  other  struggles  to  be  free. 
One  to  the  fleshly  joys  the  coarse  earth  yields, 
With  clumsy  tendrils  clings,  and  one  would  rise 
In  native  pov/er  and  vindicate  the  fields. 
Its  own  by  birthright — its  ancestral  skies. 


T30  FAUST. 

Oh !  if  indeed  Spirits  be  in  the  air, 

Moving  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  with  lordly  wings, 

Come  from  your  golden  ''incense-breathing"  sphere. 

Waft  me  to  new  and  varied  life  away. 

Oh !  had  I  but  a  magic  cloak  to  bear 

At  will  to  far  off  lands  the  wanderer, 

How  little  would  I  prize  the  rich  array  • 

Of  princes,  and  the  purple  pomp  of  kings  ! 

Wag,  Call  not  the  v;ell-known  army.     Of  dusk  air, 
A  living  stream,  the  middle  space  they  fill, 
And  danger  manifold  for  man  prepare, 
For  ever  active  in  the  work  of  ill. 
From  all  sides  pour  they  on  us — from  the  north, 
With  piercing  fangs,  with  arrow-pointed  tongues, 
And  from  the  sunrise  region  speed  they  forth, 
In  the  dry  wind  to  feast  upon  the  lungs. 
If  from  the  desolate  parched  wilderness 
The  midday  send  them  out  with  fervid  glow, 
To  heap  fresh  fire  upon  the  burning  brain, 
A  cloudy  vapour  from  the  west  they  flow. 
Descend  in  what  would  seem  refreshing  rain, 
Then  in  fierce  torrents  down  on  thee  they  press, 
And  deluge  garden,  meadow-field,  and  plain. 
Ready  for  evil  with  delight  they  hear, 
They  lurk  and  listen — gladly  they  obey 
Man's  invitation — gladly  they  betray 
Such  summoner — in  mischief  they  rejoice, 


FAUST.  131 

Ambassadors  from  heaven  itself  appear, 
And  utter  falsehoods  with  an  angel's  voice. 
But  let's  away — the  air  grows  chill — the  dew 
Is  falling — and  the  dusk  of  night  has  come. 
Towards  night  we  first  have  the  true  feel  of  home. 
What  keeps  you  standing  there  ? — Why  that  intent 
Stare — why  that  look  of  such  astonishment  ? 
What  do  you  see  that  fastens  thus  on  you  ? 

Faust.  Do  you  see  that  black  dog,  where   through   the 
green  blades 
Of  the  soft  springing  corn,  and  the  old  stubble, 
He  runs,  just  glancing  by  them  for  a  moment? 

Wag.  I've  seen  him  this  while  past,  but  thought  not  of  him 
As  any  way  strange. 

Faust.  Look  at  him  carefully, 

What  do  you  take  the  brute  to  be  ? 

Wag.  Why,  nothing 

But  a  poor  fool  of  a  poodle,  puzzling  out 
His  master's  track  whom  I  suppose  he  has  lost. 

Faust.  Do  you  observe  how  in  wide  serpent  circles 
He  courses  round  us  ?  nearer  and  yet  nearer 
Each  turn,— and  if  my  eyes  do  not  deceive  me, 
Sparkles  of  lire  whirl  where  his  foot  hath  touched. 

Wag.  I  can  see  nothing  more  than  a  black  dog  ; 
It  may  be  some  deception  of  your  eyeSo 

Faust.  Methinks  he  draws  light  magic  threads  around  us, 
Hereafter  to  entangle  and  ensnare  I 

E2 


132 


FAUST] 


Wag.  In  doubt  and  fear  the  poodle's  leaping  round  us, 
Seeing  two  strangers  in  his  master's  stead. 

Faust.  The  circle,  see,  how  much  more  narrow  'tis, — 
He's  very  near  us  ! 

Wag.  'Tis  a  dog,  you  see, 

And  not  a  spirit ;  see,  he  snarls  at  strangers, 
Shies,  lies  upon  his  belly,  wags  his  tail, 
As  all  dogs  do. 

Faust,  We'll  bring  him  home  with  us. — 

Come,  pretty  fellow  ! 

Wag.  He's  a  merry  dog,— 

If  you  stand,  he  stands  up  and  waits  for  you, — 
Speak  to  him,  and  he  straight  leaps  up  upon  you, — 
Leave  something  after  you,  no  doubt  he'll  bring  it, 
Or  plunge  into  the  water  for  your  stick. 

Faust.  You're  right.     I  see  no  traces  of  the  Spirit 
In  him — 

Wag.  A  dog,  well  tutored,  learns  the  art 
To  win  upon  a  good  man's  heart ; — 
Wise  men  grow  fond  of  them — and  see, 
Our  friend  already  follows  thee — 
Soon  shall  we  see  the  happy  creature, 
Prime  favourite,  round  the  doctor  skip  :  ' 

With  every  student  for  his  teacher, 
How  can  we  doubt  his  scholarship  ? 

\They  enter  the  town  gate 


FAUST,  133 

Scene. — Faust's  Study. 

E?iter  Faust,  with  the  Dog. 

Faust.  The  fields  we  roamed  through  with  delight, 
Are  hidden  now  in  the  deep  night  ; 
Within  us  felt  the  thrilling  hour, 
Awakes  man's  better  soul  to  power  : 
Hushed  the  desires  of  the  wild  will, 
And  action's  stormy  breath  is  still — 
Love  stirs  around  us  and  abroad. 
The  love  of  Man,  the  love  of  God. 

Rest,  poodle,  rest — lie  down  in  quiet  ! 
Why  runs  he  up  and  down  the  floor  ? 
What  can  it  be  he  looks  so  shy  at, 
Smelling  and  snuffling  at  the  door  ? 
Pleasant  wert  thou  in  our  mountain  ramble, 
Didst  make  us  merry  with  trick  and  gambol, 
Go  to  sleep  on  the  cushion — a  soft  snug  nest — 
Take  thy  ease,  in  thine  inn,  like  a  welcome  guest 

When  in  our  narrow  cell  each  night, 
The  lone  lamp  sheds  its  friendly  light, 
Then  from  the  bosom  doubt  and  fear 
Pass  off  Hke  clouds,  and  leave  it  clear — 
Then  reason  re-assumes  her  reign. 

And  hope  begins  to  bloom  again,  -      ■ 

And  in  the  hush  of  outward  strife, 


134  FAUST. 

We  seem  to  hear  the  streams  of  life, 
And  seek,  alas  ! — in  vain  essay — 
Its  hidden  fountain  far  away. 

Cease  dog,  to  growl !  the  beastly  howl  of  the  hound 
But  ill  accords  with  the  pure  breathing  of 
Heaven — with  the  holy  tones — all  peace  and  love 
That  to  the  heart  unbidden  way  have  found. 
With  men  'tis  common  to  contemn, 
Whatever  is  too  good,  too  fair. 
Too  high  to  be  conceived  by  them, 
And  is't  that  like  those  wretched  carles, 
This  dog,  at  what  he  understands  not,  snarls  ? 

These  withering  thoughts,  do  what  I  will, 
They  come — the  fountain  of  the  heart  is  chilL 
— How  oft  have  I  experienced  change  like  this ! 
Yet  is  it  not  unblest  in  the  event ; 
For,  seeking  to  supply  the  natural  dearth, 
We  learn  to  prize  things  loftier  than  the  earth. 
And  the  heart  seeks  support  and  light  from  heaven. 
And  such  support  and  light — oh^  is  it  given 
Any  where  but  in  the  New  Testament?" 
Strong  impulse  sways  me  now  to  look  to  the  text 
On  which  all  rests,  and  honestly  translate 
The  holy  original  into  mine  own 
Dear  native  tongue, 

\lle  opens  a  volume  and  prepares  to  write. 


FAUST.  r35 

— 'Tfs  written — "  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Word." — - 

Already  at  a  stand — and  how  proceed  ? 

Who  helps  me  ?     Is  the  Word  to  have  such  vahie, 

Impossible — if  by  the  spirit  guided. 

Once  more — "  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Thought."— 

Consider  the  first  line  attentively, 

Lest  hurrying  on  the  pen  outrun  the  meaning. 

Is  it  Thought  that  works  in  all,  and  that  makes  all  ? 

— It  should  stand  rather  thus — "  In  the  Beginning 

Was  the  Power." — yet  even  as  I  am  writing  this 

A  something  warns  me  we  cannot  rest  there. 

The  Spirit  aids  me — all  is  clear — and  boldly 

I  write,  In  the  Beginning  was  the  Act. 

— Cease,  teasing  dog,  this  angry  howl, 
These  moans  dissatisfied  and  dull, — 
Down,  dog,  or  I  must  be  rougher. 
Noise  like  this  I  cannot  suffer, — • 
One  of  us  must  leave  the  closet,  if 
You  still  keep  growling — that  is  positive ; 
To  use  a  guest  so  is  not  pleasant. 
But  none  could  bear  this  whine  incessant ! 
But  can  what  I  see  be  real, 
Or  is  all  some  trick  ideal  ? 
Tis  surely  something  more  than  nature, — 
Form  is  changed,  and  size,  and  stature, 
Larger,  loftier,  erecter, 


136  FAUST. 

This  seeming  dog  must  be  a  spectre  ;— 

With  fiery  eyes,  jaws  grinding  thus, 

Like  an  hippopotamus, 

— And  here  to  bring  this  whelp  of  hell, 

Oh,  at  last,  I  know  thee  well, 

For  such  half-devilish,  hellish  spawn, 

Nought's  like  the  key  of  Solomon. 

Spirits  without. 
One  is  in  prison : 
Listen  to  reason : 
Venture  not  on : 
Where  he  hath  gone 
Follow  him  none : 
Watch  we  all !  watch  we  well ! 
The  old  lynx  of  hell 
Has  fallen  in  the  snare, 
Is  trapped  unaware, 
Like  a  fox  in  the  gin ; 
He  is  in  :  he  is  in  : 
Stay  we  without, 
Sweep  we  about. 
Backward  and  forward. 
Southward  and  norward, 
Our  colleague  assisting, 
His  fetters  untwisting, 
Lightening  their  pressure 
By  mystical  measure ; 


FAUST.  137 


At  our  motions  and  voices, 
Our  brother  rejoices, 
For  us  hath  he  offered^ 
His  safety,  and  suffered ; 
We  are  his  debtors. 
Let's  loosen  his  fetters. 
Faust.  To  conquer  him  must  I  rehearse, 

First  that  deep  mysterious  verse, 

Which  each  elemental  spirit. 

Of  the  orders  four,  who  hear  it. 

Trembling,  will  confess  and  fear  it. 

Scorching  Salamander,  burn, 
Nymph  of  Water,  twist  and  turn, 
Vanish,  Sylph,  to  thy  far  home, 
Labour  vex  thee,  drudging  Gnoime. 

He  is  but  a  sorry  scholar, 
To  whom  each  elemental  ruler, 
Their  acts  and  attributes  essential, 
And  their  influence  potential, 
And  their  sympathies  auxiliar, 
Are  not  matters  quite  familiar; 
Little  knows  he,  little  merits 
A  dominion  over  Spirits. 

Fiery  Salamander,  wither 
In  the  red  flame's  fiery  glow  ! 


138  FAUST. 


Rushing,  as  waves  rush  together, 
Water-nymph,  in  water  flow  ! 
Gleamy  Sylph  of  Air,  glance,  fleeter. 
And  more  bright,  than  midnight  meteor ! 
Slave  of  homely  drudgery, 
Lubber  Incubus,  flee,  flee 
To  the  task  that  waits  for  thee ! 
Spirit,  that  within  the  beast 
Art  imprisoned,  be  releast  ! 
Kingly  sway  hath  Solomon 
Over  subject  spirits  won  ; 
— Forth  ! — obey  the  spell  and  seal 
Elemental  natures  feel ! 

By  Spirits  of  a  difl"erent  kind. 
Is  the  brute  possessed,  I  find  ; 
Grinning  he  lies,  and  mocks  the  charm 
That  has  no  power  to  work  him  harm. 

Spectre  !  by  a  stronger  spell 
Thy  obedience  I  compel — 

If  thou  be  a  serf  of  Satan, 

A  follower  of  the  fallen  great  one, 

Deserter  from  hell, 

i  I  conjure  and  charm  thee, 

\         By  the  sign  and  the  speU, 

To  which  bows  the  black  army. 

See  how  he  swells— how  the  hair  bristles  there  ! 


FAUST,  139 

Outcast  creature,  see  the  sign 
Of  the  Human  and  Divine. 
Bow  before  the  Uncreated, 
Whom  the  world  has  seen  and  hated  : 
Canst  thou  read  Him  ?     Canst  thou  see  ? 
Dread  to  hear  me  name  His  name, 
Through  all  Heaven  diffused  is  He, 
Died  on  earth  a  death  of  shame. 

Ha  !  with  terror  undissembled, 

Methinks  the  brute  at  last  has  trembled ; 

As  behind  the  stove  he  Hes, 

See  him  swell  and  see  him  pant ; 

And  his  bristles  how  they  rise 

As  he  rouses, — and  his  size 

Large  as  is  the  elephant — 

Larger  yet  the  room  he  crowds,— 

He  will  vanish  in  the  clouds. 

— Spare  the  roof  in  thy  retreat, 

Lie  down  at  the  master's  feet. 

Thou  shalt  feel  the  scorching  glow 

(Mine  is  not  an  idle  threat) 

Of  the  heat  divine — shalt  know 

Pangs  of  fiercer  torment  yet. 

— Still  resisting  ? — Tarry  not 

For  the  three-times  glowing  light, 

Blaze  beyond  endurance  bright — 


I40  FAUST, 

Reluctantly  must  I  at  length 
Speak  the  spell  of  greatest  strength. 

[Mephistopheles  comes  forward^  as  the  mist  sinks,  in  the 
dress  of  a  travelling  scholar,  from  behind  tht  stove. 

Meph.  Why  all  this  uproar  ?  is  there  any  thing 
In  my  poor  power  to  serve  you  ? 

Faust.  This  then  was 

The  poodle's  kernel — travelling  scholar — psha  ! — 
A  most  strange  case  of  the  kind — I  cannot  but 
Laugh  when  I  think  of  it. 

Meph.  Most  learned  master, 

Your  humble  servant — you've  been  broiling  me 
After  a  pretty  fashion — sweated  me 
To  the  very  vengeance.     I'm  in  a  fine  stew. 

Famt.  Your  name  ? 

Meph.  A  frivolous  enquiry  this  from  you — 
From  one  who  rates  the  word  so  low  ? 
AVlio,  disregarding  outward  show,  ^ 

Would  look  into  the  essence  of  the  being — 

Faust.  With  you  oftentimes  the  name 
And  essence  is,  I  trow,  the  same, 
The  name  and  nature  of  the  being 
All  one — in  nothing  disagreeing. 
Thus,  one  is  called  the  god  of  flies — 
One  the  Seducer — one  the  Liar. 
Now,  good,  my  friend,  may  I  enquire 
Your  name  ? 


FAUST.  141 

Meph.  Part  of  the  power  that  would 
Still  do  evil — still  does  good. 

Faust.  What  may  this  riddle  mean  ? 

Meph.  I  am  the  spirit  that  evermore  denies, 
And  rightly  so — for  all  that  doth  arise 
Deserves  to  perish — this,  distinctly  seeing — 
No  !  say  I,  No  !  to  everything  that  tries 
To  bubble  into  being. 
My  proper  element  is  what  you  name 
Sin,  Dissolution, — in  a  word,  the  Bad. 

Faust.  You  call  yourself 

A  part^  yet  stand  before  me  whole. 

Meph.  I  speak 

The  truth— the  modest  truth — though  Man  may  call 
— Poor  fool-world  Man— in  his  aspirings  high, 
Himself  a  Whole — the  Whole — I  am  not — I 
Am  part  of  a  part  which  part  at  the  first  was  All, 
Part  of  the  Darkness  that  gave  birth  to  Light ; 
Proud  Light  that  now  would  from  her  rank  displace 
Maternal  Night — and  wars  with  her  for  space, 
Yet  is  no  gainer — for,  strive  as  it  will. 
Light  clings — imprisoned  slave — to  Bodies  still. 
It  streams  from  Bodies — it  makes  Bodies  bright —         * 
A  body  intercepts  it  in  its  course ; 
This  gives  the  hope  that  Light  may  too  perforce 
When  Bodies  perish  be  extinguished  quite. 

Faust.  A  creditable  line  of  business  this; 


142  FA  UST. 

Your  Nothing  nothing  has  unmade,  I  wis 
The  great  projector  sees  his  projects  fail, 
And  would  do  business  on  a  smaller  scale, 

Meph.  And  even  in  this  way  Httle  do  I  gain, 
Against  this  Nothing  the  coarse  Somewhat  will 
Obtrude.     The  rude  World  contradicts  me  still. 
The  clumsy  lump  of  jfilth  in  proud  resistance 
Asserting  undeniable  existence, 
I  have  been  pounding  at  it  all  in  vain. 
I  have  tried  deluge,  tempest,  thunder,  and 
Lightnings — at  rest  you  see  it  still  remain 
Inviolate — the  self-same  sea  and  land. 
On  the  damned  stuff,— rank  spawn  of  man  and  beast, 
I  can  make  no  impression— not  the  least. 
What  crowds  on  crowds  I've  buried — little  good — ■ 
It  but  sets  circulating  fresh  young  blood. 
On  they  go — on,  replenishing,  renewing, 
It  drives  me  mad  to  see  the  work  that's  doing. 
From  water,  air,  earth,  germs  of  life  unfold,  ' 

Thousands  in  dry  and  damp,  in  warm  and  cold — 
Flame  still  is  mine — I've  kept  that — Flame  alone, 
Else  were  there  nothing  specially  my  own. 

Fmist.  Is  it  thou  ? — thou  standing  there  ? — thou  to  resist 
The  healthful  energy,  the  animation, 
The  force  that  moves  and  moulds,  and  is  creation — 
In  vain  spite  clenching  that  cold  devil's  fist  ? 
Strange  son  of  Chaos  this  may  well  move  laughter. 


FAUST.  143 

Meph.  Well — this  point  we  may  talk  about  hereafter — 
But  now,  with  your  permission,  I  would  go. 

Faust.  That  you  can,  whether  I  permit  or  no, 
*Why  ask  me  ?     Now  that  you  have  found  your  way, 

I  hope  to  see  you  often  here.     Good  day ! 

This  is  the  window — that  the  door — and  yonder 
The  chimney.    Why  thus  stare  about  and  ponder  ? 

MepJu  I.  am  not  free :  a  little  obstacle, 
I  did  not  see,  confines  me  to  your  cell,— 
The  druid  foot  upon  the  threshold  traced. 

Faust.  The  pentagram  ? — is  it  not  to  your  taste  ? 
But,  son  of  hell,  if  this  indeed  be  so, 
How  came  you  in,  I  should  be  glad  to  know, — ■ 
How  was  it,  that  the  charm  no  earlier  wrought  ? 

Meph.  The  lines  were  not  as  perfect  as  they  ought : 
The  outer  angle's  incomplete. 

Faust.  Well — ^twas  a  pleasant  evening's  feat— 
A  most  unlooked-for  accident — 
Strange  prize,  and  yet  more  strangely  sent. 

Meph.  The  dog,  without  perceiving  it, 
Leaped  in — the  devil  has  somehow 
Seen  it — is  in  the  house — and  nov/ 
Can  find  no  way  of  leaving  it. 

Faust.  Why  not  the  window  ? 

Meph.  Why  ?— because 

It  is  enacted  in  the  laws 
Which  binds  us  devils  and  phantoms,  '•  that 


144  FAUSTo 

Whatever  point  we  enter  at, 
We  at  the  same  return:" — thus  we 
In  our  first  choice  are  ever  free  ; — 
Choose,  and  the  right  of  choice  is  o'er, 
We,  who  were  free,  are  free  no  more. 

Faust.  Hell  has  its  codes  of  law  then — well, 
I  will  think  better  now  of  hell. 
If  laws  be  binding  and  obeyed, 
Then  compacts  with  you  may  be  made. 

Aleph.  Made  and  fulfilled,  too — nowhere  better — 
We  keep  our  compacts  to  the  letter ; 
But  points  of  law  like  this  require 
Some  time  and  thought — are  apt  to  tire, 
And  I  am  hurried — we  may  treat 
On  them  at  leisure  when  we  meet 
Again — but  now  I  ask  permission 
To  go. 

Faust  One  moment — I  am  wishing 

To  question  further  one  who  brings 
Good  news,  and  tells  such  pleasant  things. 

Meph.  Let  me  go  now — I  come  again, 
You  may  ask  any  question  then. 

Faust.  Ay,  old  fox,  ay,  come  catch  me  there — 
I  laid  no  net — I  set  no  snare, 
And  if  you  walked  into  tlie  trap — 
'Twas  your  own  act,  and  my  good  hap ; 
Luck  like  this  can  hardly  last — 
Catch  the  devil  and  keep  him  fast — 


FAUST,  145 

Part  with  a  prize,  on  which  none  could  have  reckoned ! 
The  first  chance  gone,  pray  who  will  give  a  second? 

Meph.  If  you  insist  on  it — I  stay  ; 
And  just  to  while  the  hours  away, 
I  would  amuse  you,  as  I  may ; 
For  I  have  pleasant  arts  and  power, 
With  shows  to  while  the  passing  hour. 

Faust.  If  it  be  pleasant,  try  your  art — 
As  audience  I  will  play  my  part. 

Meph.  In  one  hour  shall  more  intense 
Pleasure  flow  on  every  sense, 
Than  the  weary  year  could  give. 
In  such  life  as  here  you  live — 
The  songs  soft  spirits  sing  to  thee, 
The  images  they  bring  to  thee, 
Are  no  empty  exhibition 
Of  the  skill  of  a  magician  ; 
Pictures  fair  and  music's  tone, 
Speak  to  eye  and  ear  alone ; 
But  odours  sweet  around  thee  sporting, 
Lingering  tastes  thy  palate  courting, 
Feelings  gratified,  enraptured. 
All  thy  senses  shall  be  captured. 
Preparation  need  not  we — 
Spirits,  begin  your  melody. 

Spirits  \sin^.  Vanish,  dark  arches,   ' 
That  over  us  bend, 
Let  the  blue  sky  in  beauty 


146  FAUST. 


Look  in  like  a  friend. 
Oh ,  that  the  black  clouds 

Asunder  were  riven, 
That  the  small  stars  were  brightenim 

All  through  the  wide  heaven  ! 
And  look  at  them  smiling 

And  sparkling  in  splendour, 
Suns,  but  with  glory 

More  placid  and  tender ; 
Children  of  heaven, 

In  spiritual  beauty. 

Descending,  and  bending 

With  billowy  motion, 

Downward  are  thronging, 
Willing  devotion 

Flowing  to  meet  them, 
Loving  hearts  longing, 

Sighing  to  greet  them. 
O'er  field  and  o'er  flower, 

On  bank  and  in  bower. 
The  folds  of  their  bright  robes 

In  breezy  air  streaming. 
Where  loving  ones  living 

In  love's  thoughtful  dreaming, 
Their  fond  hearts  are  giving 

For  ever  away. 


FAUST.  1 47 

Bower  on  bovver, 

Tendril  and  flower  ;  ./ 

Clustering  grapes, 

The  vine's  purple  treasure, 
Have  fallen  in  the  v/ine-vat, 
And  bleed  in  its  pressure — 
Foaming  and  steaming,  the  new  wine  is  streaming, 
Over  agate  and  amethyst, 
Rolls  from  its  fountain, 
Leaving  behind  it 

Meadow  and  mountain, 
And  the  hill-slopes  smile  greener,  far  down  where  it 

breaks 
Into  billowy  streamlets,  or  lingers  in  lakes. 
And  the  winged  throng,  drinking  deep  of  delight 
From  the  rivers  of  joy,  are  pursuing  their  flight. 
Onward  and  onward, 
Wings  steering  sun- ward, 
Where  the  bright  islands,  with  magical  motion^ 
Stir  with  the  waves  of  the  stirring  ocean. 
Where  we  hear  'em  shout  in  chorus, 
Or  see  'em  dance  on  lawns  before  us, 
As  over  land  or  over  waters 
Chance  the  idle  parties  scatters; 
Some  upon  the  far  hills  gleaming, 
Some  along  the  bright  lakes  streaming, 
Some  their  forms  in  air  suspending, 


148  FAUST. 

Float  in  circles  never-ending. 
The  one  spirit  of  enjoyment, 
Aim,  and  impulse,  and  employment ; 
All  would  breathe  in  the  far  distance 
Life,  free  life  of  full  existence 
With  the  gracious  stars  above  them, 
Smiling  down  to  say  they  love  them. 
Meph.  He  sleeps, — thanks  to  my  little  favourites- 
Why  ye  have  fairly  sung  away  his  wits, 
And  so  he  thought  the  devil  to  catch  and  keep  ! — 
Well,  well,  I  am  a  concert  in  your  debt — 
Still  cloud  with  dreams  his  unsuspecting  sleep, 
Antic  and  wild  ! — still  in  illusion  steep 
His  fancy  ! — hover  round  and  round  him  yet, 
Haply  dreaming,  that  I  am 
Prisoner  of  the  pentagram ! 
— Tooth  of  rat  N  .  .  gets  rid  of  that  .  .  . 
Gnawing,  sawing,  bit  by  bit, 
Till  there  be  no  trace  of  it ; — 
Little  need  of  conjuring, 
Rats  to  such  a  place  to  bring ; 
One  is  rustling  in  the  wall. 
He  will  hear  my  whispered  call — 

The  master  of  the  Mice  and  Rats, 
Flies  and  Frogs,  and  Bugs  and  Bats, 
Sends  his  summons  to  appear  ; — 


FAUST.  149 

Forth !  and  gnaw  the  threshold  here  ; — 

He  hath  spilt  the  fragrant  oil, 

Till  it  vanish  tooth  must  toil  : — 

—  Sir  Rat  hath  heard  me — see  him  run 

To  the  task  that  soon  is  done  \ 

Yonder  angle  'tis,  confines 

Your  master — gnaw  the  meeting-lines  : — 

Now  the  corner,  near  the  door, 

All  is  done  in  one  bite  more. 

The  prisoner  and  the  pentagram  are  gone, 
Dream,  Faust,  until  we  meet  again,  dream  on  ! 

Faust,  [awaking].  Am   I    again    deceived? — and    must 
I  deem 
These  gorgeous  images,  but  phantoms  shaped 
In  the  delusion  of  a  lying  dream  ? 
And  so  there  was  no  devil  at  all,  'twould  seem--' 
And  it  was  but  a  poodle  that  escaped  ! 

Faust's  Sftidy. 
Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

Faust.  A  knock  ! — Come  in — who  now  comes  to  torment 
me? 

Meph.  'Tis  I. 

Faiist.  Come  in. 

Meph.  You  must  command  me  thrice. 

Faust.  Come  in,  then. 


I50  FAUST. 

Meph.  That  will  do— I'm  satisfied— 
We  soon  shall  be  the  best  friends  in  the  world.         \_Enters, 
From  your  mind  to  scatter  wholly 
The  mists  of  peevish  melancholy. 
Hither  come  I  now,  and  bear 
Of  a  young  lord  the  noble  air, 
And  mask  me  in  his  character ; 
My  dress  is  splendid,  you  behold, 
Blazing  with  the  ruddy  gold, 
With  my  stiff  silken  mantle's  pride. 
And  the  long  sword  hanging  by  my  side, 
And  o'er  my  cap  the  cock's  proud  feather —         > 
I'm  a  fine  fellow  altogether. 
And  now,  my  friend,  without  delay, 
Equip  yourself  in  like  array. 
That,  light  and  free,  you  thus  may  see 
Life's  many  pleasures  what  they  be  ! 

Fmist.  In  every  dress  alike  I  can  but  feel 
Life  the  same  torture,  earth  the  self-same  prison ; 
For  your  light  pleasures  I  am  all  too  old, 
Too  young  to  have  the  sting  of  passion  dead, 
The  world — what  can  it  give  ?  "  Refrain,  refrain  !" 
This  is  the  everlasting  song— the  chime 
Perpetually  jingling  in  all  ears. 
And  with  hoarse  accents  every  hour  repeats  it. 
Each  morn,  with  a  dull  sense  of  something  dreadful^ 
I  wake,  and  from  my  bitter  heart  could  weep 
To  see  another  day,  which^  in  its  course, 


FAUST.  151 

Will  not  fulfil  one  wish  of  mine — not  one  ! 

I 
The  teasing  crowd  of  small  anxieties, 

That  each  day  brings,  have  frittered  into  dust 

All  joy,  until  the  very  hope  of  joy 

Is  something,  that  the  heart  has  ceased  to  feel ; — 

And  life's  poor  masquerade — vapid  and  wayward, 

And  worthless  as  it  is — breaks  in  upon. 

And  dissipates,  the  world,  which  for  itself 

The  lonely  man's  imagination  builds ; 

' —  And,  when  the  night  is  come,  with  heavy  heart 

Must  I  lie  down  upon  my  bed,  where  rest 

Is  never  granted  me,  where  wild  dreams  come, 

Hideous  and  scaring.     The  in-dwelling  spirit. 

Whose  temple  is  my  heart,  who  rules  its  powers, 

Can  stir  the  bosom  to  its  lowest  depths. 

But  has  no  power  to  move  external  nature ; 

And  therefore  is  existence  burdensome. 

And  death  desirable,  and  life  detested. 

Meph.  Yet  Death's  a  guest  not  altogether  welcome. 

Faust.  Oh,  happy  he  for  whom,  in  victory's  hour 
Of  splendour,  Death  around  his  temples  binds 
The  laurel  dyed  with  blood,  and  happy  he, 
Whom,  after  the  fast  whirl  of  the  mad  dance. 
Death  in  his  true  love's  arms  reposing  finds. 
Would  that  I  too  had,  in  such  rapturous  trance, 
My  individual  being  lost  in  his 
Dissolved  before  that  lofty  Spirit's  might, 
Past,  soul  and  sense  absorbed,  away  for  ever  \ 


152  FAUST. 

Meph.  And  yet  that  night  I've  seen  a  certain  man 
Forbear  to  taste  a  certain  dark  brown  liquid  ! 

Faust.  A  spy  too — peering — prying — is  it  not  so  ? 

Meph.  I  know  not  all,  but  many  things  I  know. 

Faust.  And  if  from  harrowing  thoughts  the  rich  old  chaunt 
Did  win  me ;  and  the  old  remembered  words, 
And  the  old  music,  like  a  spell  recalling 
Faded  remembrances ;— if  in  the  trance 
All  that  remained  of  my  boy's  heart  was  captive 
To  the  charmed  echo  of  more  happy  days — 
Know  I  not — feel  I  not  it  was  illusion  ? 
We  are  but  what  the  senses  make  of  us, 
And  this  and  all  illusion  do  I  curse, 
All  that  beguiles  us,  man  or  boy — that  winds 
Over  the  heart  its  nets  and  chains  us  here 
In  thraldom  down  or  voluntary  trance, 
This  magic  jugglery,  that  fools  the  soul — 
These  obscure  powers  that  cloud  and  flatter  it ! 
Oh,  cursed  first  of  all  be  the  high  thoughts 
That  man  conceives  of  his  own  attributes  ! 
And  cursed  be  the  shadowy  appearances, 
The  false  delusive  images  of  things 
That  slave  and  mock  the  senses  !  cursed  be 
The  hypocrite  dreams  that  soothe  us  when  we  think 
Of  me — of  deathless  and  enduring  names ! 
Cursed  be  all  that,  in  self-flattery. 
We  call  our  own, — wife,  child,  and  slave,  and  plough ; — 


FAUST,  153 

Curse  upon  Mammon,  when  with  luring  gold 

He  stirs  our  souls  to  hardy  deeds,  or  when 

He  smoothes  the  couch  of  indolent  repose ; 

A  curse  upon  the  sweet  grape's  balmy  juice, 

And  the  passionate  joys  of  love,  man's  highest  joys — 

And  cursed  be  all  hope  and  all  belief; 

And  cursed,  more  than  all^  man's  tame  endurance. 

Song  of  i?ivisibie  Spirits. 

Woe,  woe  !  thou  hast  destroyed  it ! 

This  beautiful  world : 
Mighty  his  hand,  who  dealt 

The  blow  thro'  Nature  felt. 

Earth  withers : 

A  demigod  cursed  it — 
A  shock  from  the  Spirit  that  shaped  and  enjoyed  it; 
A  blight  from  the  bosom  that  nursed  it ; 
The  fragments  we  sweep  down  Night's  desolate  steep,     ' 
The  fading  glitter  we  mourn  and  we  weep  ! 

Proud  and  powerful 
Son  of  earth, 
To  second  birth, 

Call  again  the  pageant  splendid — 
Oh,  restore  what  thou  hast  rended — 
Be  no  more  the  wreck  thou  art- 
Recommence,  with  clearer  sense, 


154  FAUST, 

And  build  within  thy  secret  heart ; 
Re-create,  with  better  fate, 
Another  world  on  firmer  ground, 
And  far  and  near,  and  all  around. 
With  songs  of  joy  and  triumphing, 
Heaven  and  the  happy  earth  shall  ring. 
Meph.  Listen  to  the  witching  lay  ! 

Wise  and  wily  ones  be  they ; 

Little  ones  of  mine,  and  good 

Children  are  they — sly  and  shrewd  : 

Childlike  are  their  voices— age 

Never  uttered  words  more  sage ; 

Active  life— the  joys  of  sense 

Counsels  all  experience, — 

And  my  little  ones  do  well, 

Courting  thee  'mong  men  to  dwell, 

Far  from  this  monastic  cell ; 

Where  passions  and  young  blood  together 

In  solitude  grow  dry  and  wither. 

Oh^  listen,  and  let  charms  like  these 

Thy  feelings  and  thy  fancy  seize. 

Cease  to  indulge  this  misanthropic  humour, 

Which  like  a  vulture  preys  upon  thy  life  ; 

The  worst  society  will  make  thee  feel 

That  thou,  too,  art  a  man,  and  among  men — 

Not  that  I  mean  to  mix  you  with  the  rabble. 

I'm  not  myself  one  of  the  higher  orders ; 

But  if  you  will  in  company  with  me 


FAUST,  155 

See  life,  I  will  contrive  to  maiicage  matters, 
And  make  arrangements  to  convenience  you, 
Cheerfully — from  this  moment  am  your  comrade ; 
Or,  if  you  like  me,  am  your  servant — nay, 
Your  slave. 

Faust.  And  what  must  I  give  in  return  ? 

Meph.  Oh,  time  enough  to  think  of  that  hereafter. 

Faust,  No,  no  !  the  devil  is  selfish — very  selfish — 
Does  nothing  for  God's  sake  or  from  good  nature  : 
Come,  out  with  your  conditions,  and  speak  plainly — 
There's  little  luck,  I  trow,  with  such  a  servant. 

Meph.  I  bind  myself  to  be  thy  servant  here^ 
To  ran  and  rest  not  at  thy  beck  and  bidding ; 
And  when  we  meet  again  in  yonder  place, 
There^  in  like  manner  thou  shalt  be  my  servant. 

Faust.  That  yonder  place  gives  me  but  small  concern ; 
When  thou  hast  first  shattered  this  world  to  atoms, 
There  may  be  others  then,  for  aught  I  care. 
All  joys,  that  I  can  feel,  from  this  earth  flow, 
And  this  sun  shines  upon  my  miseries  ! 
And  were  I  once  divorced  from  them  I  care  not 
What  may  hereafter  happen — of  these  things 
I'll  hear  no  more — I  do  not  seek  to  know 
If  man,  in  future  life,  still  hates  and  loves  ; 
If  in  those  spheres  there  be^  as  well  as  here, 
Like  differences  of  suffering  and  enjoyment, 
Debasement  and  superiority. 

Meph.  With  feelings  such  as  these  you  well  may  venture. 


156  FAUST, 

Make  only  the  engagement,  and  at  once 
All  will  be  pleasure — I  have  rare  devices, 
And  of  my  craft  will  show  thee  many  marvels, 
Right  strange  and  merry  scenes  will  conjure  up  : 
Sights  shalt  thou  see  that  man  hath  never  seen. 

Faust  Thou — what  hast  thou — poor  devil?    The  mind 
of  man, 
Man's  seeking — struggling  spirit — hopes — aspirings 
Infinite — are  they  things  to  be  conceived 
By  natures  su-ch  as  thou  art  ?     Yet  hast  thou^ 
Poor  devil,  in  thy  degree  a  wherewithal 
To  wile  and  win  us ;  deUcates  uncloying 
Are — are  they  not  ? — among  those  lures  of  thine  ? 
Yea  1  hast  thou  the  red  gold  that  restlessly 
Like  quicksilver  slides  from  the  hand — a  game 
At  which  none  wins,  yet  is  it  play  ? — a  girl 
That  with  her  lavish  arms  around  my  breast, 
With  willing  eyes  ogles  and  wooes  another. 
—And  splendour  hast  thou  ? — rank — wilt  give  me  these  ? 
The  starlight  meteors  of  ambition's  heav'n  ? 
Aye  !  let  me  see  this  pleasant  fruit  of  thine 
That  rots  before  we  gather  it — the  trees 
That  each  day  bud  and  bloom  anew.* 

Meph.  Fine  things  to  fancy  ! — to  be  sure  you  shall 
Have  this  or  any  thing  you  wish  to  ask  for, — 
Something  less  spiritual  were  something  better  ; 
■^  "  The  w'orlde  tlial  iicwclli  every  daic.'' — GowER,  Coufcssio  Aniantis. 


FAUST. 

But  by  and  by  we'll  find  the  Doctor's  taste 
Improving, — we'll  have  our  own  pleasant  places, 
And  our  tit  bits — and  our  snug  little  parties, 
And — what  will  keep  the  Doctor's  spirit  quiet ; — 
— I  promise  you,  you'll  feel  what  comfort  is. 

Faust.  Comfort  and  quiet ! — no,  no  !  none  of  these 
For  me — I  ask  them  not — I  seek  them  not. 
If  ever  I  upon  the  bed  of  sloth 
Lie  down  and  rest,  then  be  the  hour,  in  which 
I  so  lie  down  and  rest,  my  last  of  life. 
Canst  thou  by  falsehood  or  by  flattery 
Delude  me  into  self-complacent  smiles,  ' 
Cheat  me  into  tranquillity  ?  come,  then, 
And  welcome  life's  last  day — be  this  our  wager. 

Me  ph.  Done. 

Faust.  Done,  say    I    clench  we  at  once  the  bargain. 
If  ever  time  should  flow  so  calmly  on, 
Soothing  my  spirits  into  such  oblivion. 
That  in  the  pleasant  trance  I  would  arrest, 
And  hail  the  happy  moment  in  its  course, 
Bidding  it  Hnger  with  me — "  Oh,  how  fair 
Art  thou,  delicious  moment !" — "  Happy  days, 
Why  will  ye  flee  ?" — "  Fair  visions  !  yet  a  little 
Abide  with  me,  and  bless  me — fly  not  yet," 
Or  words  like  these — then  throw  me  into  fetters- 
Then  willingly  do  I  consent  to  perish ; 
Then  may  the  death-bell  peal  its  heavy  sounds ; 


157 


158  FAUST. 

Then  is  thy  service  at  an  end — and  then 

The  clock  may  cease  to  strike — tlie  hand  to  move — 

For  me  be  time  then  passed  avv^ay  for  ever 

Meph.  Think  well  upon  it — we  will  not  forget. 

Faust.  Remember,  or  forget  it,  as  you  please ; 
I  have  resolved — and  that  not  rashly  :  here^ 
While  I  remain,  I  needs  must  be  a  slave — 
AVhat  matter,  therefore,  whether  thine,  or  whose  ? 

Meph.  I'll  then,  belike,  at  the  Doctors'  Feast  to-day 
Attend,  your  humble  friend  and  servitor. 
Just  one  thing  more— as  life  and  death's  uncertain, 
I'd  wish  to  have  a  line  or  two  in  writing, 

Faust,  And  dost  thou  ask  a  writing,  too,  poor  pedant? 
Know  you  not  Man  ?  Man's  nature  ?  or  Man's  word  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  that  I  have  spoken  it  ? 
My  very  life — all  that  I  have  and  am, 
What  is  it  but  an  echo  of  my  word, 
Pledge  of  the  will  that  gives  it  utterance  ? 
If  words  be  nothing,  what  is  writing  more  ? 
Is  the  world's  course  one  sea  of  stormy  madness,-^ 
Its  thousand  streams,  in  conflict  everlasting, 
Raving  tegardlessly ?  roll  they  not  on? 
Must  they  not  roll  ? — and  can  it  be  that  I, 
In  this  perpetual  movement,  shall  not  move- 
Held  back,  the  slave  and  prisoner  of  a  promise  ? 
Yet  in  this  fancy  all  believe  alike  : 
If  a  delusion,  all  men  are  deluded— 


FAUST.  159 

And  is  there  one  that  would  be  undeceived? 
Truth  and  the  feeling  of  integrity- 
Are  of  the  heart's  own  essence — should  they  call 
For  sufferings,  none  repents  the  sacrifice. 
Oh,  happy  he,  whom  Truth  accompanies 
In  all  his  walks — from  outward  cumbrance  free — 
Pure  of  all  soil — dwelling  within  the  heart, 
Light  to  his  steps  and  guidance  :  oracle 
To  lead  or  to  mislead,  none  doth  he  seek ;  ^ 

Consults  no  casuist,  but  an  honest  conscience ; 
Of  sacrifices  recks  not,  and  repents  not. 
But  a  stamped  parchment  and  a  formal  deed, 
With  seal  and  signature,  all  shrink  from  this 
As  something  that  offends  and  wounds  our  nature ; 
It  robs,  methinks,  the  words  of  all  their  life, 
The  letter,  and  that  only  binds  us  now ; 
Such  virtue,  and  no  other  can  it  have. 
As  seal  and  stamp,  as  wax  and  parchment  give — 
But  why? — why  argue  for  it  or  against  it  ? — 
Is  writing  more  than  the  unwritten  word  ? 
— What,  evil  one,  what  is  it  you  require  ? 
Brass?  marble?  parchm.ent?  paper?— do  you  wish 
Graver  or  chisel  ?  or  plain  pen  and  ink  ? — 
Have  which  you  please — any  or  all  of  them. 

Meph.  Why  this  excitement  ?  why  this  waste  of  oratory  ? 
These  frantic  gestures  ? — any  scrap  will  do  ; — 
Just  scratch  your  name,  there,  in  a  drop  of  blood. 


i6o  FAUST. 

Faust  A  silly  farce — but  if  it  gratifies  you 

Meph.  Blood  it  must  be — blood  has  peculiar  virtues. 
Faust.  Fear  not  that  I  will  break  this  covenant : 
The  only  impulse  now  that  sways  my  powers, 
My  sole  desire  in  life,  is  what  I've  promised ! 
I've  been  puffed  up  with  fancies  too  aspiring, 
My  rank  is  not  more  high  than  thine ;  I  am 
Degraded  and  despised  by  the  Great  Spirit ; 
Nature  is  sealed  from  me ;  the  web  of  thought 
Is  shattered ;  burst  into  a  thousand  threads ; 
I  loathe,  and  sicken  at  the  name  of  knowledge. 
Now  in  the  depths  of  sensuality 
To  still  these  burning  passions ;  to  be  wrapped 
In  the  impenetrable  cloak  of  magic, 
With  things  miraculous  to  feast  the  senses ! 
Let's  fling  ourselves  into  the  stream  of  time, 
Into  the  tumbling  waves  of  accident, 
Let  pain  and  pleasure,  loathing  and  enjoyment. 
Mingle  and  alternate,  as  it  may  be ; 
Restlessness  is  man's  best  activity. 

Meph.  Nothing  whatever  is  there  to  restrain  you — 
If  your  desires  be  as  you  say,  to  taste 
Of  every  sweet — sip  all  things — setde  nowhere — 
Catching  each  moment  while  upon  the  wing 
In  random  motion  all  that  meets  the  eye, 
Rifling  from  every  flower  its  bloom  and  fragrance, 
If  any  thing  will  do  that  is  amusing— 


FAUST.  I6l 

I  wish  you  joy  of  this  new  life — come  on — 

Set  to  at  once — come — come,  no  bashful  loitering. 

Fmist  Hearken.     I  have  not  said  one  word  of  bliss — 
Henceforth  do  I  devote  and  yield  myself, 
Heart,  soul,  and  life,  to  rapturous  excitement — 
Such  dizzy,  such  intoxicating  joy, 
As,  when  we  stand  upon  a  precipice. 
Makes  reel  the  giddy  sense  and  the  brain  whirl  1 
From  this  day  forward  am  I  dedicate 
To  the  indulgence  of  tempestuous  passion — 
Love  agonising — idolising  hatred — 
Cheering  vexation — all  that  animates 
And  is  our  nature  ;  and  the  heart,  serened 
And  separated  from  the  toil  of  knowledge, 
Cured  of  the  fever  that  so  long  oppressed  it, 
Shall  cease  to  shut  itself  against  the  wounds 
Of  pain  :  whate'er  is  portioned  'mong  mankind 
In  my  own  intimate  self  shall  I  enjoy, 
With  my  soul  grasp  all  thoughts  most  high  or  deep, 
Heap  on  my  heart  all  human  joys  and  woes. 
Expand  myself  until  mankind  become 
A  part  as  'twere,  of  my  identity, 
And  they  and  I  at  last  together  perish. 

Meph.  A  pretty  passion  for  a  man  to  cherish ! 
Believe  me,  who  have  for  some  thousand  years, 
Day  after  day,  been  champing  this  hard  food, 
Bitter  bad  diet  is  the  same  old  leaven. 

F 


i63  FAUST. 

Take  a  friend's  word  for  it  who  ought  to  know, 
Never  hath  man  from  cradle  to  the  bier 
Succeeded  in  digesting  the  tough  dough ; 
To  man  the  Universal  is  not  given. 
The  Whole  is  only  for  a  God — in  light 
He  lives — eternal  hght — Us  hath  he  driven 
Into  the  darkness — yours  is  Day  and  Night, 

Faust.  This  daunts  not  me  ! 

Meph.  Said  boldly  and  said  well ! 

To  me  there  seems  to  be  one  obstacle  ; 
Ars  lo7tga,  vita  brevis — the  old  story — 
Take  a  few  lessons  more^and  then  determine. 
Call  to  your  aid  some  builder  up  of  verses, 
Let  his  mind  wander  in  the  fields  of  thought; 
Imagining  high  attributes  to  heap 
On  you — the  lion's  magnanimity — 
The  fleetness  of  the  stag — the  fiery  blood 
That  dances  in  the  hearts  of  Italy — 
The  constancy  and  firmness  of  the  North- 
Let  his  invention  gift  you  with  the  secret, 
With  lofty  thoughts  low  cunning  to  combine — 
To  love  with  all  a  young  heart's  ardent  impulses, 
Yet  following  closely  some  cold  plan  of  reason — 
And  thus  to  reconcile  each  contrariety. 
A  pleasant  person  this  Herr  Microcosmos, 
I  think  IVe  met  him  somewhere  in  society. 

Faust,  What  cin7  I  then — if  here  too  all  in  vain 


FAUST.  1G3 

The  passions  and  the  senses  pant  and  strahi, 
If  this — the  crown  of  onr  humanity- 
Is  placed  on  heights  I  never  can  attain? 

Meph.  You  are  just  what  you  are — nay — never  doubt  it 
Heap  lying  curls  in  millions  on  your  head ; 
On  socks — a  cubit  high — plant  your  proud  tread, 
You  are  just  what  you  are — that's  all  about  it. 

Faust.  Alas  !  in  vain  poor  I  together  scraped 
All  that  man's  science  till  this  day  hath  shown  ; 
And  all  that  his  imagination  shaped. 
I  in  ambition's  dreams  have  made  my  own. 
A  weary  task  it  was — a  sullen  strife, 
And  now  I  sit  me  down,  helpless,  alone, 
No  nev/  power  comes — no  strength— no  spring  of  life. 
Not  by  a  hair's  breadth  higher  is  my  height, 
Far — far  as  ever  from  the  infinite. 

Meph.  Aye  !  this  is  man's  presumptuous  view- 
Mine,  less  ambitious,  is  more  true — 
Why  to  these  moody  fancies  give 
The  rein  ?  while  living,  why  not  live  ? 
Why^  what  the  mischief !  you  have  got 
Your  head-^hands^iaunch-paunch — and — what  not — 
But  all  that  I  employ — enjoy — 
Is  it  less  mine  ?     When  to  my  car  j 
My  money  yokes  six  spankers,  are 
Their  limbs  not  my  limbs  .?     Is't  not  I 
On  the  proud  race-course  that  dash  by  ? 

F  2 


1 64  FAUST. 

Yes,  I  it  is  tliat  sweep  along, 

Swift  in  their  speed — in  their  strength,  strong — ■ 

Mine  all  the  forces  I  combine — 

The  four-and-twenty  legs  are  mine — 

Up  !  up  1  throw  off  this  cloud  of  gloom  ! 

Come  !  come  ! — into  the  world — come  1  come  ! — 

Away  with  dreams — your  theorist 

Is — let  me  tell  you — like  a  beast 

On  a  dry  heath,  whom  a  bad  Spirit 

In  one  dull  circle  round  and  round 

Keeps  whirling,  while  on  all  sides  near  it 

The  bright  green  pastures  everywhere  abound, 

Faust.  But  how  begin  ? 

Meph.  First,  must  we  fly  from  hence- 

What  place  of  martyrdom  is  this  ?  what  life 
Is  this  to  lead  ?  or  can  you  call  it  life. 
Wearying  yourself  and  pupils  thus  for  ever  ? 
Better  leave  such  work  to  your  neighbour  Paunchman, 
Why  stay  to  plague  yourself  with  threshing  straw  ? 
Afraid,  even  in  a  hint,  to  intimate 
Your  best  acquirements  to  the  boys  who  crowd 
Your  lecture-room  ;  even  now  upon  the  passage 
I  hear  the  foot  of  one. 

Faust.  Impossible  ;    I  cannot  see  him  nov/. 

Mcph.  The  poor  lad  has  been  waiting  a  long  while  | 
A\'e  should  not  let  him  go  without  some  notice ; 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  will  do  for  him — 


FAUST.  165 

Come,  Doctor,  help  me  on  with  your  cap  and  gown, 

Trust  to  my  wits — I  rather  like  the  whim — 

This  masquerade  dress  becomes  me  cliarmingly, 

Meanwhile,  you  may  be  getting  into  trim 

Fit  for  this  fashionable  trip  of  ours.  \^Exit  Faust. 

Mephistopheles  in  Faust's  long  gown. 

Ay,  thus  continue  to  contemn 

Reason  and  knowledge,  man's  best  powers, 

And  every  hope  he  can  inherit ! 

Still  speak  despisingly  of  them, 

Heart-hardened  by  an  evil  spirit ; 

Soul  and  senses  in  confusion, 

Mocked  by  magical  delusion  ; 

Still  indulge  derision  vain. 

Mine  thou  art,  and  must  remain ! 

His  is  an  eager,  restless  mind, 

That  presses  forward  unconfined 

And,  in  the  anticipation 

Of  a  brisk  imagination, 

Ever  active,  still  outmeasures 

The  slow  steps  of  earthly  pleasures  % 

Him,  through  the  world's  wild  vanity, 

Its  wearisome  inanity,  ^ 

I 
Will  I  hurry  forward,  thus  / 

Breaking  his  impetuous 

And  fiery  temper — he  will  sprawl, 


1 66  FAUST. 

And  start,  and  stand — then  stick  and  fall- 
Meats  and  v/ines  unsatisfying 
Shall  before  his  lips  be  flying — 
The  withered  spirit  seeks  in  vain 
Health  and  refreshment  to  obtain — 
What  need  of  seal  and  signature 
In  blood,  such  spirit  to  secure  ? 

Student  e7itcrs. 

Stu.  I  am  but  just  arrived — your  name 
My  chief  attraction  ;   and  I  came 
At  once, — ^^forgive  my  strong  desire 
To  see  and  speak  to  him,  v/hose  fame 
Has  spread  so  far — whom  ail  admire. 

Meph.  Fame  has  been  most  obliging,  then  * 
You  see  a  man  like  other  men — 
Did  you  seek  farther,  you  might  meet 
Abler  instructors, 

Sfic.                                            I  entreat 
Your  care  and  counsel — with  a  guide 
Where  could  I  better  be  supplied  ? 
I  come  with  heart  and  spirits  free, 
And  youth— and  the  professor's  fee; 
My  mother  scarce  would  let  me  coriie  j 
]-3ut  I  love  learning  more  than  home — 
Have  for  improvement  travelled  far 

Meph.  And  in  the  best  place  for  it  are. 


FA  UST,  :i6j 

Stu.  And  yet,  if  I  the  truth  may  say, 
I  would  I  were  again  away : 

Walls  like  these,  and  halls  like  these,  ^ 

Will,  I  fear,  in  no  wise  please  ! 
I'he  narrow  gloom  of  this  cold  room, 
Where  nothing  green  is  ever  seen  ; 
No  lawn — no  tree — no  floweret's  bloom —  ■■ 

'Mong  benches,  books,  my  heart  is  sinking, 
And  my  wasted  senses  shrinking — 
I  mourn  the  hour  that  I  came  hither ; 
Ear  and  eye,  and  heart  will  die. 
Thought,  and  the  power  of  thought,  will  wither, 

Mepli.  This  is  all  custom  :  as  at  first 
UnwiUingly  the  young  child  sips 
The  breast ;  but  soon,  with  eager  thirst, 
And  pressure  of  delighted  lips, 
Clings  to  the  mother's  hearty  that  gives 
The  living  food  on  which  he  lives ;  ' 

Thus  thou,  each  day  more  deeply  blest, 
Wilt  drink  from  Wisdom's  nursing  breast. 

Stu.  Oh,  to  my  heart  shall  she  be  strained 
With  love  ! — but  how  is  she  obtained  ? 

Meph.  First,  let  me  beg,  that  you  will  mention 
What  line  of  life  is  your  intention  ? 

Stu.  Oh,  I  long  ardently  to  know 
Whatever  man  may  learn  below, 
AH  that  we  contemplate  on  earth, 


1 68  FAUST, 

And  ail  that  in  the  heaven  hath  birth, 

To  roam  through  learning's  wondrous  maze, 

And  comprehend  all  Nature's  ways. 

Meph.  Right ;  but  by  prudence  still  be  guided, 
Guard  most,  that  thought  and  mind  be  not 
Much  dissipated  and  divided. 

Stu.  With  soul  and  strength  will  I  apply, 
But  now  and  then  could  seize  with  pleasure 
A  it'N  short  hours  of  idle  leisure. 
A  little  thoughtless  liberty ; 
A  pleasant  summer  holyday. 
When  skies  are  bright,  and  fields  are  gay. 

Meph.  Make  good  use  of  your  time,  for  fast 
Time  flies,  and  is  for  ever  past ; 
To  make  time  for  yourself  begin 
By  order — method — discipline ; 
For  this  I  counsel  my  young  friend 
A  course  of  logic  to  attend  j 
Thus  will  your  mind,  well-trained,  and  high, 
In  Spanish  boots  stalk  pompously  ! 
With  solemn  look,  and  crippled  pace, 
The  beaten  road  of  thought  will  trace  : 
Nor  here  and  there,  through  paths  oblique, 
In  devious  wanderings  idly  strike ; 
For  days  and  days  you  then  are  taught^ 
I'hat,  in  what  hitherto  had  gone. 
Like  eating,  and  like  drinking,  on,  / 


FAUST.  169 


One,  Two,  and  Three,  the  guide  must  be 
In  this  which  seemed  till  now  so  free. 
But,  as  the  weaver's  work  is  wrought, 
Even  so  is  formed  the  web  of  thought ; 
One  movement  leads  a  thousand  threads, 
Unseen  they  move,  as  now  above 
The  shuttle  darts,  now  darts  below ; 
One  beat  combines  a  thousand  twines, 
And  not  unhke  would  seem  the  flow 
Of  mind,  when  Nature  thinks  in  us. 
But  now  in  steps  Philosophus^ 
To  prove  it  could  not  but  be  thus. 
"  The  first  was  so — the  seco?id  so — 
Then  must  the  third  ajid fourth  be  so — 
And  if  the  premises  be  hollow^ 
That  the  conclusion  will  not  follow^ 
The  language  this  of  all  the  schools 
The  Art  of  Weaving  taught  by  rules 
That  men  profound  and  boys  beHeve  ! 
• — Do  they  teach  any  one  to  weave  ? 
Here  he,  who  seeks  to  learn,  or  gives 
Descriptions  of,  a  thing  that  lives. 
Begins  with  '•  murdering,  to  dissect,'* 
The  lifeless  parts  he  may  inspect — 
The  limbs  are  there  beneath  his  knife, 
And  all — but  that  which  gave  them  life  ! 
Alas  !  the  spirit  hath  withdrawn, 


lyo  FAUST, 

That  which  informed  the  mass  is  gone — 

They  scrutinize  it,  when  it  ceases 

To  be  itself,  and  count  its  pieces — 

Finger  and  feel  them,  and  call  this 

Experiment — analysis. 

Is  what  v/e  handle  then  the  whole  ? 

Is  there  no  animating  soul  ? 

In  Nature  is  there  nothing  meant  ? 

No  law,  no  language  of  intent  ? 

Oh  !  could  your  chemist,  in  whose  hand 

The  fragments  are,  but  understand 

The  terms  he  uses  !  ^''  Encheiresis 

Naturce^ — for  the  phrase  expresses 

With  scorn,  that  it  seems  strange  should  be 

In  words  thus  accidentally. 

How  less  than  nothing  can  avail 

These  tricks  of  dabbling  and  detail. 

Sin.  I  cannot  v/holly  comprehend  your  meaning. 

Meph.  No  matter — next  time  you'll  get  better  on- 
When  you  have  learned  to  arrange^  and  classify, 
And  body  all  you  hear  in  syllogisms. 

Stu,  My  brain  is  stupefied — I  feel 
As  if,  within  my  head,  a  wheel 
Was  whirling. round  with  ceaseless  reel. 

Meph,  Next — most  important  thing  of  all — 
With  zeal  to  metaphysics  fall. 
There,  see — or  think  that  you  see— plain, 


FAUST.  171 


What — does  not  pass  within  the  brain. 
Our  faculties  are  too  confined 
To  guide  us  here — the  human  mind 
Fails — and  we  are  and  must  be  blind. 
Thoughts  are  or  are  not  in  the  head, — 
Use  serviceable  words  instead  ; 
But  first  be  sure  the  next  half-year 
At  every  lecture  to  appear — 
Five  hours  each  day  for  lecturing — 
Be  there  the  moment  the  bells  ring. 
Be  sure  beforehand  to  prepare, 
Have  read  the  syllabus  with  care ; 
Have  every  paragraph  well  conned, 
Watch,  lest  the  teacher  go  beyond 
The  matter  written  in  his  book  ; 
Then,  as  you  write  his  dictates,  look 
That  you  take  down  verbatim  all 
And  every  sentence  he  lets  fall, 
As  if  each  sentence  scripture  were^ 
That  comes  from  the  professor's  chair. 

Stii.  This,  sir,  you  need  not  tell  me  twice— 
I  feel  how  useful  the  advice ; 
What  one  has  thus  in  black  and  white, 
He  can  take  home  with  him  at  night. 

Meph.  But  what  profession  is  your  choice  ? 

Sin.  Law  shall  not  ever  have  my  voice. 

Meph.  In  this,  I  own,  you  show  discerning  s 


173  FAUST. 

I  know,  and  do  not  love,  this  learning. 

Laws  every  where  are  like  the  taint 

Of  an  inherited  complaint, 

The  curse  of"  an  infected  race  : 

Their  downward  progress  you  may  trace, 

From  land  to  land,  through  blighted  nations, 

Afflicting  distant  generations — 

Reason  made  nonsense,  good  intent. 

In  lapse  of  time  warped  from  its  true  sense, 

Things  for  the  common  welfare  meant, 

Becoming  thus  a  common  nuisance. 

Unhappy,  that  it  was  thy  fate 

To  have  been  born  an  age  too  late. 

The  laws  for  thy  great  grandsire  made 

Are  laws  to  thee — miist  be  obeyed — 

Must  be  obeyed,  and  why  ?     Because, 

Bad  though  they  be,  they  are  the  laws  ; 

But  of  the  rights  by  Nature  taught. 

And  born  with  man,  they  take  no  thought. 

Stu.  You  deepen  my  abhorrence  for 
That,  which  I  did  before  abhor — 
I  wish  to  learn  Theology. 

Meph.  I  fear  to  lead  you  wrong — and  I 
Speak  here  with  more  of  hesitation. 
It  is  a  dangerous  vocation. 
This  same  Theology  :  its  ways 
Are  such  a  tangled  serpent  maze — 


FAUS1\ 

Such  poison  every  where  disguised — 
And  every  where  as  medicine  prized — 

That  which  is  which,  or  why  'tis  so, 

Few  can  conjecture — none  can  know. 

The  best  thing  that  the  case  affords 

Is — stick  to  some  one  doctor's  words  : 

Maintain  his  doctrines  out  and  out, 

Admit  no  quahfying  doubt ; 

But  stick  to  words  at  any  rate^ 

Their  magic  bids  the  temple  gate 

Of  Certainty  fly  safely  ope — 

Words,  words  alone  are  your  best  hope. 

Shi.  But  in  each  word  must  be  a  thought-— 
Mcph.  There  is,  or  we  may  so  assume, — 

Not  always  found,  nor  always  sought, 

While  words — mere  words,  supply  its  room. 

Words  answer  well,  when  men  enlist  'em, 

In  building  up  a  favourite  system ; 

With  words  men  dogmatize,  deceive  ; 

With  words  dispute,  on  words  believe ; 

And  be  the  meaning  much  or  little, 

The  Word  can  lose  nor  jot  nor  tittle. 

Stii.  Pardon — I  feel  my  questions  tease  you. 

Just  for  a  moment  more — one  word 

On  Medicine,  so  please  you. 

With  but  three  years  for  it,  it  were  absurd 

For  one  like  me,  without  a  guide, 


173 


174  FAUST. 

To  enter  on  a  course  so  wide ; 
And  your  experience  may  suggest, 
In  such  a  field,  what  path  is  best. 

Mc^ph.  [aside],  I'm  sick  of  this  pedantic  tone, 
Too  long  assumed.     Now  for  my  own  ! 

\_AIo2td.']  The  trade  of  Medicine's  easiest  of  all : 
'Tis  but  to  study  all  things — every  v/here — 
Nature  and  man — the  great  world  and  the  small — 
Then  leave  them  at  hap-hazard  still  to  fare. 
It  is,  you  see,  plainly  impossible 
That  one  man  should  be  skilled  in  every  science — 
Who  learns  the  little  that  he  can,  does  well  : 
The  secret  of  the  art  is  self-reliance. 
A  man  can  learn  but  what  he  can  ; 
Who  hits  the  moment  is  the  man. 
— You  are  well  made — have  common  sense, 
And  do  not  want  for  impudence. 
Be  fearless — others  will  confide  no  less. 
When  you  are  confident  of  your  success— 
The  only  obstacle  is  indecision ; 
But,  above  all,  win  to  yourself  the  women — 
They  have  their  thousand  weaknesses  and  ache?;, 
And  the  one  cure  for  them  is  the  Physician. 
A  due  consideration  for  the  sex 
Will  teach  the  value  of  decorous  seeming: 
Let  but  appearances  be  unsuspicious. 
And  they  are  every  thing  their  doctor  wishes. 
The  title  "  Doctor  "  is  essential. 


FAUST.  175 

Our  university  credential, 

That,  as  in  one  approved  and  tried, 

TIrey  may  undoubtingly  confide. 

Then  in  the  very  earliest  stage 

Of  new  acquaintanceship  you  lead  them, 

Enjoying  every  privilege  ,    ' 

Of  tete-atete  familiar  freedom  ; 

Although  the  young  physician's  eyes 

Exhibit  half,  and  half  disguise 

Something,  like  tenderness,  the  while 

Mingling  with  the  habitual  guile 

Of  the  sly  acquiescent  smile  : 

Then  may  you  feel  the  taper  v;rist, 

Nor  will  there  one  of  them  resist 

The  hand  professionally  prest 

— Permitted  boldness — on  her  breast, 

Or  round  her  waist  the  free  arm  thrown, 

To  feel  how  much  too  tight  her  zone. 

Stii.  This  seems  more  feasible — one  sees 
Something  like  reason  in  all  this — 
Winning  the  household  through  the  wife, 

Meph.  Theory,  friend,  is  old  and  grey, 
And  green  the  golden  tree  of  life  ! 

Stii.  Is  this  reality  ?—so  like  a  dream 
All  seems  !     May  I,  upon  some  future  day, 
Resume  my  visit  ? — learn  the  grounds  and  root 
Of  these  your  doctrines  ? 

MepJi.  Come  when  it  may  suit. 


176  FAUST. 

StiL  One  favour  more- — deem  not  your  guest 
Intrusive — grant  me  this  -request — 
Just  in  my  album  write  a  line. 

Meph.  With  pleasure.  [  Writes^  and  returns  the  hook. 

Stu.  [reads].  Eritis  sicut  D^us,  sdentes  bonuni  et  niihint. 

\Shuts  it  respectfully^  and  exit. 

Meph.  If  the  wily  proverb  guide  thee,  and  my  cousin  the 
sly  snake, 
A  weary  man    thy   likeness    to    the    gods   will    of    thee 
make ! 

Faust.  [Fnters.]  Where  go  we  now  ? 

Meph.  Oh !  wheresoe'er  you  please  !— 

See  all  that's  to  be  seen  in  common  life, 
And  then,  so  please  you,  visit  the  gay  world. 
Dancing  and  revelling  scot-free,  and  careless 
Who  pays  the  piper. 

Faust.  What,  with  my  long  beard  ? 

How  shall  I  trim  it  into  decent  shape  ?  ' 

And  I  want  ease  of  manners,  and  the  knowledge 
Of  life — why,  the  experiment  must  fail ! 
I  cannot — never  could  at  any  time — 
Be  what  society  requires  :  I  am 
Abashed  in  company — shall  every  moment 
Be  at  a  loss  ! 

Meph.  My  good  friend,  have  no  fear 

On  this  score — be  but  self-possessed — that  is 
The  only  art  of  life. 


FAUST.  177 

Faust.  How  do  you  mean 

To  travel  ? — where  are  servants,  horses,  carriage  ? 

Meph.  We  only  spread  this  mantle  out,  and  it 
Wafts  us  through  air  in  this  our  daring  journey. 
Bring  out  with  you  no  loads  of  heavy  baggage  : 
A  little  gas,  which  I  will  soon  have  ready, 
Will  lift  us  high  above  the  earth ; — light  laden, 
We  will  move  fast,  and  soon  be  far  away  ! 
Welcome,  my  friend,  to  the  new  life  before  you--- 
A  pleasant  change.     I  wish  you  joy  of  it ! 

Auerbach's  Cellar  in  Leipzig. — Set  of  Merry  Companions, 

Frosch.  Is  no  one  laughing  ? — no  one  drinking  ? 
Come,  come,  a  truce  to  sober  thinking  ! 
Hang  these  long  faces — come,  be  sprightly  ! 
What,  you  that  used  to  blaze  so  brightly  ! 
All  dull  and  damp — smoking  together 
Like  dunghill  straw  in  rainy  weather  ? 

Bra?ider.  'Tis  your  fault  that  we  are  not  jolly — 
Have  you  no  beastliness,  no  folly 
To  treat  us  to  to-night? 

[Frosch  throivs  a  glass  of  wine  over  Brander's  head]. 

Have  both. 

Bran.  Brute  that  you  are  !     Were  I  not  loth 

Fro.  You  got  but  what  you  asked  me  for. 

Siebel  Come,  come,  we'll  have  no  civil  war — 


I7S  FAUST. 

We'll  have  no  difference  of  opinion 
In  this  our  absolute  dominion. 
Whoever  quarrels,  kick  him  out — 
Now  raise  the  chorus  round  about — 
Lift  every  voice,  and  swill,  and  shout — 

With  holla—holla— ho ! 

AUmayer.  Help  !  help  !  I  am  lost—bring  me  cotton  I  the 
cheers 
Will  split  open  my  skull,  and  play  hell  with  my  ears. 

Sie.  When  the  arches  ring  again, 
We  feel  the  bass  in  full  power  then. 

Fro.  Right,  right,  say  I,  v/ith  all  my  heart; 
If  any  one  in  evil  part 
Takes  any  thing,  that  here  is  done, 
Why,  kick  him  out,  the  bitch's  son. 

Alt.  A  tara — lara — da. 

Fro.  All  throats  are  tuned. 

[Smgs.'] 
The  Holy  Romish  empire  now, 
How  does  it  hold  together  ? 

Bran.  A  nasty  song — psha  ! — a  political  song 
A  most  offensive  song.     Thank  God  each  day, 
Rising  from  bed,  that  you  have  nought  to  say 
With  governing  this  Romish  empire  ;  I 
Greatly  rejoice  and  bless  my  stars  therefore^ 
I  am  not  Emperor  or  Chancellor; 
Still  I  see  no  sufficient  reason  why 


FAUST,  179 

We  should  not  have  a  ruler  ; — I  propose 
That  we  elect  a  Pope — what  qualification 
Should  mark  a  candidate  for  consecration, 
All  of  ye  know. 
Fro.  \_sings\. 

Greet  her,  Lady  Nightingale, 
Greet  viy  love  ten  thousand  tiiues. 
Sie.    Love-meetings  and  greetings— let  us  not  hear  of 

them. 
Fro.  Love-greetings  and  meetings — who  can  keep  clear. 
of  them  ? 

Sings.'] 
Undo  the  door  in  stilly  niglit — 
Open  latch — thy  love  keeps  watch  ; 
For  thy  sake — is  he  awake, 
Shut-to  the  door  at  morning's  light, 
Sie.  Yes  !  sing,  sing  on — a  little  v/hile  sing  on  ! 
Sing  her  sweet  praises  ! — I  will  laugh  anon. 
Me  she  deceived,  and  thee  she  is  deceiving, 
Devil  that  she  is — whom  there  is  no  believing — 
Has  played  the  same  tricks  with  each  man  that  sought  her— 
I  wish  some  goblin  of  the  forest  caught  her 
On  a  cross-road — or  that,  from  the  witch-dances 
On  Blocksberg,  trotting  home,  an  old  buck-goat, 
With  his  long-bearded  chin  and  meg-a-geg  throat, 
Made  up  to  her — 'tis  some  such  brute  she  fancies ; 
A  young  fellow  of  proper  flesh  and  blood, 


i8o  FAUST. 

To  be  thus  thrown  away  were  far  too  good ; 
From  me  no  serenading  should  she  gain, 
Other  than  dashing  in  each  window-pane. 

Bra7t.  \striki7ig  07i  the  table].  Silence  there — silence— all 
attend  to  me — 
Gentlemen,  I  know  life,  and  how  to  live  ; 
And,  as  some  of  us  seem  in  love  to  be, 
A  song  for  love-sick  people  will  I  give. 
Your  merry  singer  is  the  best  physician 
For  a  poor  devil  in  such  sad  condition. 
Here  all  of  you  attend — come,  cease  your  chattering— 
And  listen  to  a  song  of  the  first  pattern  — 
And  all  join  in  the  chorus  : — 

Once  in  a  cellar  Hved  a  rat, 

Whose  paunch  each  day  grew  smoother  ; 

He  dined  on  butter,  supped  on  fat, 

And  looked  like  Doctor  Luther. 

The  cook  put  poison  in  his  way, 

And  when  our  poor  rat  tasted  it, 

He  felt  a  cramping  in  his  heart, 

As  fierce  as  if  Love  wasted  it. 

As  fierce  as  if  Love  ivasted  it. 

And  he  ran  round,  and  out  he  ran, 

And  looking  for  a  cure,  he 

Drank  at  each  puddle,  gnawed,  and  scratched. 

And  raved  in  perfect  fury. 


FAUST.  i8i 

In  pain  he  fell — in  pain  he  sprang, 
The  cook  with  pleasure  gazed  at  it ; 
Poor  creature  felt  at  heart  a  pang, 
As  fierce  as  if  Love  wasted  it. 

As  fierce  as  if  Love  wasted  it. 

x\nd  torture  drove  him  at  noon-day 

To  run  into  the  kitchen  ; 

He  fell  down  on  the  hearth,  and  lay 

Convulsing  there  and  screeching. 

Loud  laughed  the  cook  to  see  him  sprawl 

In  death,  and  feel  she  hasted  it : 

Ka!  ha  !  quoth  she,  your  heart  is  gone, 

As  sure  as  if  love  wasted  it. 

As  sure  as  if  Love  wasted  it, 

Sie.  How  the  heavy  logs  enjoy  it, 
As  if  a  rat  had  nothing  good. 
And  'twere  a  virtue  to  destroy  it. 

Bran.  The  rats,  it  seems,  are  special  favourites; 
Creatures  of  generous  gentle  blood. 
And  hold  high  place  in  your  good  graces. 

Alt.  Old  baldpate,  with  the  paunch  there, — how  his  wits 
Are  gone  ! — to  him  the  rat's  case  his  own  case  is — 
With  food  too  good  for  it  the  belly  swollen, 
Then  the  poor  thing  in  death  convulsions  rolling- 
No  wonder  it  should  jar  and  strike 
Upon  his  nerves — it  is  too  Hke. 


j82  FAUST. 

Mephistopkeles  and  Faust  enter. 

Meph.    [in  conversation  with  FaustJ. — And  first    I    feel 
anxiety, 
To  show  you  our  "  Society 
Of  merry  fellows  ;" — free  and  gay, 
Regular  rioters  are  they, 
And  their  whole  life  is  holiday ; 
The  requisites  for  happiness 
Are  few,  are — what  these  men  possess  : 
With  lively  spirits — self-conceit — 
And  little, — very  little  wit — 
'Tis  the  same  life,  the  whole  year  round, 
The  self-same  set  together  found ; — 
Each  night,  their  songs — their  drink — their  game — 
Their  mirth — their  very  jests  the  same ; 
And  as  its  tail  diverts  a  kitten. 
So  they  with  their  own  jokes  are  smitten  : 
They  ask  no  more  than  thus  to  sup — 
Without  a  headache  to  get  up — 
And  while  the  host  will  credit  give 
Are  satisfied— and  thus  they  live  ! 

B7'an.  They're  travellers  off  a  journey,  you  may  see  it 
In  their  odd  manners — are  not  here  an  hour. 

F7'o.  You're  right,  quite  right !  Leipzig,  say  I,  for  ever ! 
Leipzig's  a  little  Paris  in  itself: 
You'd  know  our  Leipzig  people  any  where. 
Their  manners  are  so  finished. 


FAUST.  183 

Sie.  But  these  strangers, 

What  think  you,  are  they  ? 

Fro.  Only  wait  a  moment— 

In  the  twinkle  of  a  bumper  I  will  tell  you — 
I'll  worm  it  out  of  them  as  easily 
As  draw  an  infant's  tooth  :  let  me  alone 
For  managing  them  :  I  guess  that  they  belong 
To  the  nobility,  they  look  so  haughty, 
So  distant — you  would  almost  say — displeased. 

Bran.  They  are  mountebanks,  I'll'  lay  you  any  wager. 

Alt.  Probably. 

Fro.  See  if  I  don't  screw  it  out. 

Meph.  [to  Faust].  Always  the  same,  they  never  scent  the 
devil, 
Even  when  he  has  them  by  the  nape  of  the  neck. 

Faust.  Your  servant,  gentlemen — 

Sie.  Thanks,  sir.  and  yours — 

\LooJdng  at  Mephistopheles,  in  a  low  tone.'] 
The  fellow  limps  a  little  on  one  foot. 

Meph.  Will  you  permit  us  to  sit  down  with  you, 
And  for  good  wine,  which  cannot  be  had  here, 
Give  us  the  pleasure  of  good  company  ? 

Alt.  You  seem  a  most  fastidious  gentleman. 

Fro.  You  are  lately  come  from  Rippach,are  you  not,  sirs? — 
Have  been  at  supper  with  old  Hans  to-night  ? 

Meph.  To-day  we  did  not  stop ; — last  time  we  spoke  to  him 
He  told  us  some  good  stories  of  his  cousins — 


1 84  FAUST. 

And  sent  his  compliments  to  each  of  you. 

Alt.  A  home-thrust  that — the  fellow's  not  to  be  done. 

Sie.  He  knows  the  world,  and  how  to  make  out  life. 

Fro.  Wait,  wait,  until— I'll  have  him  before  long. 

MepJi.  Was  I  deceived,  for  just  as  we  came  in 
We  heard,  or  thought  we  heard,  a  merry  chorus 
Of  practised  voices  ? — what  a  rich  effect 
Music  must  have  along  this  vaulted  roof. 

Fro.  You  are  a  virtuoso  then — 

Meph.  0\\  no  ! 

My  skill  is  next  to  none — but  I  love  music. 

Alt.  Give  us  a  song — 

Meph.  A  hundred,  if  you  please. 

Sie.  Something  original — something  brand-new. 

Meph.  We're  just  returned  from  Spain,  romantic   Spain, 
The  land  of  wine  and  song. — \Sings.\ 

Once  on  a  time  there  was  a  king, 

A  lovely  queen  had  he — 
But  dearer  far  than  queen  or  son, 
He  loved  a  big  black  flea. 

Fro.  A  flea  !  is  it  possible  I  heard  him  right  ? 
A  flea  !  oh,  what  a  guest  to  grace  a  palace  ! 

Once  on  a  time,  there  was  a  king, 

A  lovely  queen  had  he — 
But  dearer  far  than  queen  or  son, 

He  loved  a  big  black  flea  ! 
He  called  the  royal  tailor, 


FAUST.  185 

Who  measures  him,  and  stitches 
A  coat  for  the  young  favourite, 
And  a  little  pair  of  breeches. 
Bra?i.  Forget  not,  sire,  to  charge  the  tailor  strictly 
That  they  be  well  and  fashionably  made — 
And  as  he  sets  a  value  on  his  head, 
That  he  shall  leave  no  seam,  or  plait,  or  wrinkle  ! 
Meph.  Of  silk  and  satin  were  the  clothes 

Our  young  lord  looked  so  fine  in — 
He  sported  ribands — and  a  cross 
Upon  his  breast  was  shining  ! 
Soon  Minister,  he  wore  a  star, 
Lived  splendidly  and  gaily. 
His  poor  relations  all  got  place, 
And  thronged  the  palace  daily. 

And  Queen  and  Maid  got  bites  and  stings, 

And  were  afraid  to  scratch  'em ; 
They  cursed  the  flea  and  all  his  kin, 

But  did  not  dare  to  catch  'em ! 
But  we,  if  we  get  sting  or  bite, 

None  hinders  us  to  scratch  'em  ; 
And  if  the  fleas  be  troublesome, 
We  kill  them  when  we  catch  'em. 

Chorus. — And  if ,  &>€. 
F7'o.  Bravo  !  bravo  !    that  was  excellent. 
Sie.  We'll  catch  and  play  the  devil  with  the  fleas. 


i86  FAUST, 

Bran.  "With  pointed  nail  and  linger,  pressed  together. 

Alt.  Freedom  and  Wine  for  ever  ! — Wine  and  Freedom. 

Meph.  Willingly  would  I  drink  long  life  to  Freedom  ; 
But  that  your  wines  are  execrably  bad. 

Sie.  You  must  not  venture  to  say  this  again ! 

Meph.  Only  I  fear  to  vex  our  worthy  host, 
I'd  give  you  something  better  from  our  cellars. 

Sie.  Out  with  it  then.     I'll  take  the  blame  on  me. 

Fro.  Pour  out  a  bumper  if  you  wish  to  please  us — 
None  of  your  sample  thimblefuls  for  me — 
When  I  try  wine,  I  like  a  deep  long  draught — 
That  is  the  only  way  to  judge  of  it. 

Alt.  \in    a  low  voice.']  I've   strong  suspicions   they  are 
from  the  Rhine. 

Meph.  Bring  me  a  gimlet. 

Bra?i.  What  to  do  with  it  ?— 

You  cannot  have  your  wine-casks  at  the  door. 

Alt.  Behind,  there,  is  the  landlord's  chest  of  tools. 

Meph.  [taki7ig  np  the  gimlet.']  Now  say  what  wine  you  wish. 

Fro.  What  do  you  mean? 

Have  you  so  many? 

Meph.  Each  may  choose  his  favourite. 

Alt.  {to  Fkosch.)  Ha  !  you  begin  to  lick  your  lips  already. 

Fro.  Well  then,  if  I  may  choose,  I'll  take  the  Rhenish : 
The  best  gifts  we  receive  are  from  our  country. 

Meph.  [boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of  the  table  opposite  Frosch's 
seafi]  Now  get  a  little  wax — and  make  some  stoppers. 


FAUSr.  1S7 

Alt.  'Tis  plain  that  they  are  jugglers. 
Meph.  [to  Brander.]  Sir,  your  choice? 

Bran.  I'll  have  Champagne — sparkling  Champagne  forme! 
[Mephistopheles  bores  again  ;  one  of  the  party  hai 
in  the  meantime  prepared  the  wax  stoppers  and 
stopped  the  gimlet  holes. 
Bran.  One  cannot  always  do  without  the  Foreigner — 
But  give  him  to  me  in  the  shape  of  wine. 
A  true-born  German  hates  with  all  his  heart 
A  Frenchman— but  their  wines  are  excellent*. 

Sie.  \as  Mephistopheles  approaches  his  seat^  I'd  have 
you  know  I  hate  all  acid  wines — 
Give  me  a  glass  of  genuine  sweet ! 

Meph.  Tokay 

Then  let  it  be. 

Alt.  No,  gentlemen,  this  won't  do  ! 

Now  look  me  straight  in  the  face,  old  mountebank  t 
I  see  you  but  bamboozle  us  ! — 

Meph.  Yes,  yes ! 

A  very  likely  story — to  play  tricks 
On  noble  guests  like  you  !  now  fast — make  ready — • 
Out  with  the  word — pray,  sir,  what  wine  shall  I  give  you  ? 
Alt.  Any  ahd  all !  whatever  t  can  get. 

[After  all  the  holes  are  bored  and  stopped^  Mephis- 
topheles, with  strange  gestures^ 
Grapes  are  of  the  vine-branch  born ; 
The  buck-goat's  is  a  branch  of  horn 


i88  FAUST. 

Wine  is  sap — and  grapes  are  wood, 
The  wooden  board  yields  wine  as  good. 
All  is  clear  to  him  that  seeth — 
Lift  the  veil  and  look  beneath, 
It  is  but  a  deeper  glance 
Under  Nature's  countenance — 
Now  behold — your  prophet  saith — 
Miracles— if  you  have  faith. 
Every  man  draw  up  his  stopper, 
And  drink  such  wine  as  he  thinks  proper. 
AH.  [as  they  draw  the  stoppers^  and  the  wine  each  has 
chosen  runs  into  his  glass.]  Flow  on,  bright  rill — flow  on 
and  fill 
Our  hearts  with  joy — flow  on  at  will ! 

Meph.  Drink — but  be  cautious  how  you  spill; 
There's  danger  if  a  drop  but  falls.       \They  drink  repeatedly. 
All.  \sing?[  That  we  will — that  we  will ! 
Happy  as  the  cannibals  : 
Like  five  hundred  swine  we  swill. 
Meph.  Look  at  them,  they're  the  happiest  of  men. 
Faust.  Take  me  away — I'll  not  come  here  again. 
Meph.  Wait  till  you  see  them  in  their  glory : 
We'll  soon  have  fun  ! 

Sie.  \drinki7ig  carelessly ^  spills  some  of  the  wine.,  which 
turns  to  flame.']  Help,  help  !  fire,  fire  !— Hell  fire ! 

Meph.  Dov/n,  friendly  Element ! — be  still,  I  say — 
— This  time  'twas  but  a  drop  of  purgatory  ! 


FAUST.  189 

Sie.  What  means  the  fellow?     Damn  him— he  shall  pay 
Dearly  for  this ;  you'd  think  he  did  not  know  us. 
Fro.  [to  Mephistopheles.]  Better  take  care  no  tricks  like 

this  to  show  us. 
Ait  The  sooner  we  get  rid  of  him  the  better — 
There's  nothing  to  be  had  from  such  a  debtor. 

Sie.  You,  sir,  are  guilty  of  strange  impropriety  ; 
Playing  your  mountebank  pranks  in  such  society. 
Meph.  Silence,  old  wine- tub  ! 

Sie.  Broomstick !  one  would  think 

He  might  rest  satisfied  with  these  feats  of  his, 
Without  being  impudent  into  the  bargain. 

Bra7z.  Be  silent,  and  thankful  that  we  do  not  flog  you  ! 
Alt.  [draws  a  stopper  out  of  the  table ;  fireflies  out].  I'm 

burnt — I'm  burning  ! 
Sie.  '  Kill  him— kill  the  scoundrel  ! 

He's  a  magician ! — Kill  him  !  he's  fair  game  ! 

[T/iey  draw  their  knives  a7id  attack  Mephistopheles. 
Meph.  [with  sole??7n  gestures].  Wandering  voices  mock  the 
ear  ! 
Forms,  that  phantoms  are,  appear  ! 
Be  ye  far  away,  and  near ! 
Be  ye  there  !  and  be  ye  here  ! 

[They  stand  gazing  on  each  other  in  amazement. 
Alt.  Where  am  I  ? — in  what  lovely  land  ? 
Fro.  What  a  show  of  vineyards  near  ! 
Sie.  Clustering  grapes  invite  the  hand. 


190  FAUST^ 

Bran.  See  them  through  the  green  Leaves  here — 
Ripe  and  heavy — look  at  them  ; — 
Oh  !  what  grapes  and  such  a  stem  ! 

\He  seizes  Siebel  by  the  nose.     The  others  do  the  same 
one  with  the  other,  and  ore  raising  tJieir  knives. 
Mcph,  [as  from  above].  Clouds  of  Error  pass  away  ! 
See  ye  how  the  Devil  can  play  ! 
Let  each  startled  reveller 
See  who  plays  the  Devil  here. 
[  Vanishes  iviih  Faust.    Thefelloivs  start  back  from 
one  another. 
Sie.  What's  this  ? 
Ait.  How's  this  ? 

Fro.  Is  this  your  nose  ? 

Fran,  [to  Siebel].  And  yours^  on  which  my  fingers  close  ? 
A/t.  I  feel  the  shock  through  every  limb ; 
A  chair  ! — I  faint ! — my  eyes  grow  dim  ! 
Fro.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  all  ? 
Sie.  Where  is  he  ?  what's  become  of  him  ? 

If  I  can  catch  him,  how  I  shall 

A/t.  Catch  him,  indeed  !  'tis  easy  trying 
To  deal  with  such — I  saw  him  flying 
Out  of  the  cellar  on  a  cask — 
You  may  as  well  give  up  the  task  : 
Heavy  as  lead  these  feet  of  mine 

Are  grown. — [Turning  toivards  the  lablcl  We've  lost  our  well' 
of  wine. 


FAUST.  191 

Sie.  All  was  deception — trick — design  ! 
Fro.  Yet,  what  I  drank,  I  thought  was  wine  ! 
Bra7i.  The  ripe  grapes  too — did  they  deceive  ? 
' — Who  after  this  can  but  believe  ? 

Witch's  Kitchen. 

On  a  low  hearth  a  large  caldron  is  on  the  fire — iii  the  thick 
smoke  are  discovered  several  strafige  figures.  A  female 
Cat-ape  {little  long-tailed  monkey)  is  sittifig  beside  the 
caldron,  to  skim  it,  and  take  care  it  does  not  boil  over. 
The  male  Cat-ape,  with  the  young  ones,  sits  ?iear,  warm- 
ing himself  ;—fa7itastic  articles  of  furniture,  suitable  to  the 
place,  seen  hajtgi?ig  from  the  walls,  6^^. 

Faust  a?id  Mephistopheles. 

Faust.  This  senseless  witchcraft  sickens  and  disgusts  me — 
And,  sayest  thou  that  I  shall  recruit  life's  powers, 
Here,  in  this  loathsome  den  of  filthy  madness? — 
Shall  I  petition  an  old  hag  for  counsel  ? 
And  can  the  nauseous  puddle  of  that  pot 
Make  me  a  younger  man  by  thirty  winters  ? 
There's  little  hope  if  thou  hast  nothing  better — 
My  expectation  is  already  gone ! 
— Is  there  in  Nature  no  restorative 
But  this  ?     Has  Spirit  never  yet  devised 
Means  different  to  restore  the  spring  of  life  ? 

MeJ)h.  Now  do  I  recognize  my  friend's  good  sense  ;— 


192  FAUST. 

Yes  !  there  are  also  natural  means,  by  which 
Life's  bloom  and  vigour  may  again  be  given  ; 
But  in  a  different  book  this  lesson  lies, 
And  it  forms  an  odd  chapter. 

Faust.  I  will  learn  it. 

Meph.  There  is  a  means,  and  it  requires  not  gold, 
Magic,  or  medicine  ; — away  with  you 
Into  the  fields — begin  to  hew  and  delve — 
,  Confine  yourself,  and  limit  every  wish 
Within  a  narrow  circle — feed  upon 
Meats,  simple,  undisguised — and  live,  in  short, 
Beast-like,  'mong  beasts — deem  it  no  degradation 
Thyself  to  spread  the  dung  upon  the  field 
The  growth  of  which  thou  art  to  reap — this  is 
Indeed  the  best  way  to  repair  life's  powers. 
And  wear  at  eighty  a  hale  countenance. 

Faust.  This  cannot  be — I  am  not  used  to  it — 
Nor  can  I  learn  to  take  up  now  the  spade — 
Such  narrow  life  would  never  do  for  me. 

Meph.  We  must  recur  then  to  the  witch. 

Faust.  Wliy  so  ? 

— What's  the  particular  use  of  an  old  hag 
In  the  matter  ?     Can't  you  cook  the  draught  yourself? 

Meph.  That  were  a  pretty  waste  of  time — why,  man, 
A  thousand  bridges  might  be  built,  before 
'Tis  done — it  asks  not  skill  and  science  only, 
But  patience  must  brood  over  it — the  spirit 


FAUST.  193 

In  silence  must  remain  for  years  fermenting  ; 

Time,  and  time  only,  clears  and  strengthens  it, — 

All  things  belonging  to  it  are  mysterious — 

Its  powers  and  its  ingredients  wonderful — 

True  —'twas  the  devil  that  first  invented  it, 

But  yet  the  devil  can't  make  it — look — look,  yonder — 

What    a   handsome    crew    they    are- — both    maid    and 

man. — 
\To  the  Apes.]  It  seems  the  mistress  is  from  home. 

The  Apes.  Gone  from  home — to  the  rout, 
Through  the  chimney  she  went  out ; 
Gone  to  carouse 
On  the  chimney  stone  on  the  top  of  the  house  ! 

Mcph.  Will  she  stay 
Long  away? 

Apes.  'Twixt  the  time  she  comes  and  goes, 
We  can  scarcely  warm  our  toes. 

Meph.  What  think  you  of  these  dear  young  creatures  ? 

Faust.  All  makes  me  sick — voice,  form,  and  features  ! 

Meph.  Well,  I  must  own,  I  greatly  relish 
The  graces  which  their  style  embellish.  \To  the  Apes. 

Tell  me,  execrable  baby, 
What  the  mess  you  mingle  may  be — 
And  the  lumps,  my  pretty  jewel ! 
That  are  floating  in  the  gruel. 

Apes.  A  beggar's  dish — we  boil  and  stew  it. 

Meph.  And  most  men,  without  knowing,  chew  it. 

G 


194  FAUST. 

Old  Ape.  [fawning  upon  Mephistopheles.]  Throw  the 
dice — begin,  begin — 
I  am  poor,  so  let  me  win — 
Me  to  win,  and  you  to  lose, 
Is  the  way  that  I  would  choose — 
Money's  all  in  all  j-^the  witch 
Is  made  honesty  if  made  rich. 
Give  me  gold,  and  by  that  rule, 

Who  will  say  I  am  a  fool  ?  [watery, 

Meph.  As  the  Ape  talks  of  gold,   see  his  lips  growing 
I  wish  we  could  get  him  a  share  in  the  Lottery. 

The  Old  Ape  \johilc  the  young  Cat-apes  are  playing  and 
rolling  routid  a  large  bowL] 

Such  is  the  world  !     * 
So  is  it  twirled, 
Now  rolling  onward, 
Now  rolling  downward, 
Ceaselessly,  restlessly, 
Still  does  it  spin  ; 
Like  glass  it  is  brittle. 
And  broken  by  little. 
Glimmering,  shimmering, 
Llollow  within — 
Living  am  I — 
Stop,  my  dear  son, 
Thy  sporting  have  done. 
Think  thou  must  die  ! 


FAUST,  195 

All  is  clay, 

And  must  crumble  away  ! 
MepJi.  What's  the  purpose  of  the  sieve  ? 
Ape.  If  a  man  comes  here  to  thieve, 
With  this  eye-glass  thus  we  view  him  ; 
Raise  it  thus,  and  thus  look  through  him, 

\Ru7is  to  the  Female,  and  makes  her  look  through  it 
at  Mephistopheles- 
Through  the  sieve  look  there — look  strait — 
Read  his  features — read  his  fate. 
Answer,  if  thou  art  not  deaf — 
Dost  thou  know  him— the  old  thief? 
Dost  thou  dread,  from  fear  or  shame, 
To  name  him  by  his  proper  name  ? 

MepJi.  And  what's  the  meaning  of  the  pot? 
Ape.  How  silly  a  sot, 

To  ask  what's  what ; 
The  fool  knows  not 
The  use  of  the  pot — 
The  use  of  the  kettle— 
Meph.  Unmannerly  wittol, 

Be  quiet  a  little. 
Ape.  Be  brisk — take  the  whisk, — and    sit  down  on  the 
setde.  [Forces  Mephistopheles  to  sit  doivn. 

Faust  \ivJio  has  been  ail  this  tiine  before  a  glass,  now  ap- 
proaching, and  nozv  sta?iding  off  from  it].  What  is  this 
that  I  see — how  heavenly  fair 

G  3 


196  FAUST, 

The  form  that  shines  in  this  enchanted  glass  ! 

Oh  !  lend  me,  Love,  thy  swift  and  silent  wings, 

That  I  may  fly  away  to  where  she  is  ! 

Near  me  she  seems,  yet  hopelessly  removed, 

And  living  in  another  atmosphere  ! 

Alas  !  if  from  this  spot  I  do  but  stir, 

If  I  but  venture  to  approach  more  near. 

There  seems  a  dusky  cloud  to  gather  o'er  her ; — 

Image  of  woman,  beyond  woman  fair^ 

Oh  !  beautiful  transcendently — has  Earth 

Charms  such  as  this — in  that  reclining  form. 

Say  rather  that  all  charms  of  many  heavens 

United  are. — Can  this  indeed  be  woman  ? 

Can  this,  indeed,  be  a  created  being  ? 

Meph.  Fine  cause  of  wonderment ! — after  seven  days 
Of  work,  if  he  who  made  this  pretty  world, 
And  who  admired  his  workmanship,  made  something. 
Worth  looking  at !     Ay,  gaze  on  her  in  rapture — 
This,  by  the  way,  is  one  of  these  same  treasures 
That  I  am  pretty  safe  in  promising  : 
Blessed  the  man  who  brings  the  fair  bride  home  ! 

[Faust  cojitvmes  looking  into  ike  glass. — Mephis- 
TOPHELES,  lolli?igon  the  Settle,  and  with  the  whisk 
i?i  his  ha7id,  continues  speaking. 
Here  on  my  kingly  throne  I  sit  me  down. 
With  sceptre  too — I  only  want  a  crown. 

The  Apes  [7uho  have  been  playing  all  kind  oj  fantastic 


FAUST,  197 

gambols,  bring  Mephistopheles  a  crown  with  loud  accla- 
mations]. Monarch  proud — 

With  sweat  and  blood 
Smear  it — wear  it — 
\^They  hajidle  the  croivn  awkwardly,  and  break  it  in 
two  pieces,  with  which  they  go  daficifig  about. 
Tis  done — 'twas  to  be  ; 
We  speak  and  we  see — 
We  hearken — we  listen — 
We  rhyme  and  we  reason. 
Faust  [still  before  the  glass\  Alas  !  I  feel  my  senses  leaving 

me. 
Meph.  And  stranger  stilly  even  my  head's  growing  giddy ! 
Apes.        We  have  words,  and  we  can  link 
Syllables  that  chime  and  chink ; 
Sense  unsought — thus  is  caught  j — 
Every  jingle  is  a  thought — 
Every  word  with  meaning  fraught — 
Language,  glib  and  random,  thus 
Does  the  work  of  thought  for  us  ; 
Let  but  your  own  fancy  mingle 
With  the  jargon  and  the  jingle, 

As  you  listen  to  the  lays ; 
Bring  the  meaning  you  are  gleaning, 
Give  the  poet  all  the  praise. 
Fatist  \as  before].  My  heart's  on  fire — let  us  depart. 
Meph.  This  is  the  true  poetic  art — 


198  FAUST. 

And  I  have  never  met  with  prettier  poets, 
Could  they  but  keep  the  secrets  of  their  trade. 

[The  caldron,  which  the  female  Cat- ape  has  forgotten 
to  attend  to,  begins  to   boil  over — a  great  blaze 
arises,  and  sti'eams  up  the  chimney. — The  Witch 
comes  down  through  the  flame  ivith  horrid  screams. 
The  Witch.  Ou  !  Ou  !  Ou  !  Ou  ! 
Damned  beast !  cursed  sow  ! — 
The  pot  has  boiled  over — the  broth's  overturned, 
The  liquor  is  lost,  and  the  Mistress  is  burned ! 
Damned  beast — 
And  what  is  this  ? 

\Seei71g  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 
And  who  are  ye  ? 
What  brings  ye  here  ? 
Who  sent  ye  here  ? 
May  fiery  pain 
Burn  bone  and  brain  ! 
\pips  the  shimming  ladle  in  the  caldron,  and  sprinkles 
the  flames  at  Faust,  Mephistopheles,  a7id  the 
Cat-apes — the  Apes  whiiie. 
Meph.  \^  flourishes  the  fan,  and  breaks  pots  and  glasses \ 
Broken, broken  ! 
Hell-broth  splashing, 
Glasses  crashing. 

Payment  for  the  words  you've  spoken ! 
It  is  all  in  sport,  my  honey  ! 


FAUST.  199 

Nothing  but  a  frolic  funny  ! 
Keeping  time,  old  carrion  odious, 
Fitly  with  thy  voice  melodious  ! 

\The  Witch  steps  back  with  rage  and  astonishiiicnt. 
Knowest  thou  no  more  than  that  0'  me, 
Thou  raw-boned  old  Anatomy  ! 
Skeleton  !  the  devil  blast  her  ! 
— Know  you  not  your  Lord  and  Master  ? 
Shall  I  dash  the  old  deceiver's 
Bones  into  a  thousand  shivers  ? 
femash  her,  and  cats,  and  crocks  together? 
— Know  ye  not  my  vest's  red  leather  ? 
Know  ye  not  the  cock-tail  feather  ? 
What  mask  is  there  upon  my  features, 
To  hide  me  thus  from  my  own  creatures  ? 
And  am  I  called  upon  to  mention 
My  name,  my  rank,  and  my  pretension  ? 

The  Witch.  Pardon,  my  Lord,  this  rough  salute  : 
I  do  not  see  the  cloven  foot, — 
And  where  are  your  two  ravens  ? — Where 

MepJi>-  Enough,  old  fool, — for  once  I  spiire  3— 
'Tis  long  since  we  have  met,  and  strange 
Has  been,  in  such  a  time5  the  change — 
The  world's  grown  wise — in  every  movement 
Is  seen  the  Spirit  of  Improvement ; 
Reform  to  every  thing  extended — 
Among  the  rest  the  devil  is  mended  : 


200  FAUST. 

For  court  has  left  his  wildernesses^ 
Thrown  off  his  ancient  savage  dresses  ; 
The  curling  tail  and  talons  horrid, 
And  horns  to  guard  the  wrinkled  forehead. 
All  gone — the  northern  phantom's  vanished, 
By  modern  education  banished  ! 
— As  to  the  foot — against  my  will, 
I  bear  that  witness  with  me  still; 
'Twould  injure  me  in  the  good  graces 
Of  some  who  figure  in  high  places ; 
So,  what  I  can,  I  do  to  hide  it, 
And  for  the  purpose,  am  provided 
With  padded  calves — and  thus  am  able 
To  limp  no  more  than's  fashionable — 
Many  young  men,  that  I  might  mention, 
Avail  themselves  of  the  invention. 

The  Witch.  Satan  again — my  own  old  boy, 
Once  more  with  me  ! — I'll  die  with  joy. 

Meph.  Woman,  that  name — I  beg  to  be  excused — 
Call  me  not  so  again. 

The  Witch.  And  why  ?  and  wherefore  ?  what  the  mischief 
ails 
The  good  old  name  ? 

Meph.  It  has  been  too  much  used, 

And  sounds  like  something  in  the  fairy  tales  ; 
Is  so, familiar,  that  men  deem  it  fable  ; 
Men  belie  i^e  nothing  now  above  the  level 


FAUST.  201 

Of  every-day  experience  — they  are  able 

To  disprove  all  things  ;— don't  believe  a  letter 

That  speaks  of  me, — are  they  for  this  the  better? 

— Devils  that  they  are,  they  don't  believe  a  devil ! 

Call  me  Lord  Baron — no  one  can  object 

To  that,  or  some  such  title  of  respect. 

I  am  a  cavalier,  as  good 

As  any — am  of  ancient  blood  ; 

Look  at  my  scutcheon,  all  who  doubt  it — 

See  here — I  never  go  without  it.  ' 

\Stnits  about  -ivith  pompous  gestures. 

The  Witch  \laughing  inunodcrately],    Lla  !  ha  ! — this  is  so 
like  you — is  so  clever — 
You're,  after  all,  the  same  gay  rascal  ever ! 

Meph.  [to  Faust.]  This,  every  day's  experience  teaches, 
Is  the  true  way  to  deal  with  witches. 

The  Witch,  What,  gentlemen,  would  you  desire 
To  drink? 

Meph.  I  thank  you— we  require 

A  bumper — one  will  be  enough — 
Of — you  know  well  the  right  old  stuff. 
Give  us  the  oldest  you  have  here. 
\_To  Faust].    Its  strength  is  doubled  every  year! 

The  Witch.  Most  willingly — )^ou  need  not  ask 
A  second  time — here  is  a  flask, 
I  taste  myself,  now  and  again — 
You'll  not  find  any  smell  remain. 


g02  '  FAUST. 

Here — take  a,  dram — but  if  I  give  it 

To  him— you  know  he  can't  outUve  it 

An  hour,  unless  some  charm  protect 

His  hfe  from  the  assured  effect. 

Meph.  He  is  a  friend^  'twill  do  him  good— - 

Thrives  like  yourself  on  witches'  food — 

There's  nothing  you  can  give  that  is 

Too  strong  for  such  a  stomach  as  his. 

Come — chalk  your  circle — chant  your  charm — 

Till  high  the  cup,  'twill  do  no  harm. 

\TJie  Witch,  witJi  extraordinary  gesfitres,  describes  a 
circle,  a7id places  strange  tilings  ivitliin  it.  Meantime 
the  glasses  begin  to  chime  and  ring ;  the  caldron  to 
sound  and  make  music.  Lastly,  she  brings  a  great  book, 
places  the  Cat-Apes  within  the  circle ;  one  is  made  to 
serve  her  for  a  reading-desk,  others  hold  torches.  She 
signs  to  Faust  to  app7'oach.  [scene  ! 

Faust  to  Mephistopheles.  No,  no  !  I'm  sick  of  the  whole 

^Vhat  good  is  it  ?  what  can  it  mean  ? 

These  raving  gestures  ?  and  this  rapid 

Torrent  of  nonsense  ?  filthy — vapid 

And  loathsome  cheat. — I've  seen  such  stuff 

Before;  and  hated  it  enough! 
Meph.  'Tis  pure  professional  farce— mere  fudge™ 

You  should  not  be  so  hard  a  judge ! 

She  is  but  acting  the  physician  ; 

This  hocus-pocus  exhibition 


FAUST.  203 

Assists  the  cure — makes  the  draught  operate 
AVith  good  effect,  and  at  the  proper  rate. 

\Shc  makes  Faust  enter  the  circle. 
The  Witch  \ivith  a  strong  emphasis^  begins  to  declaim  from 
the  book\ 

Understand  me  let  all  men ! 

Of  One  make  Ten> 

Let  Two  go  then : 

Bid  Three 

Now  be 

The  square  of  Three  : 

Thus  the  Witch 

Makes  you  rich ; 

Drop  Four 

From  your  score : 

From  Five  and  Six 

You  should  fix 

To  take  Seven  and  Eight  away, 

Then  all  is  clear  as  day. 

And  Nine  is  One, 

And  Ten  is  None, 

This  is  the  Witch's  One-times-one. 
Faust.  She  seems  in  earnest,  old  deceiver  ! 
■ — How  like  the  ravings  of  a  fever  ! 

Meph.  There  is  an  endless  volume  of  this  stuff — 
I  ought  to  know  it — I've  lost  time  enough 
Puzzling  it  out — for  downright  contradiction 


204  FA  UST. 

Is,  to  the  wise  and  fools,  an  equal  mystery. 
My  friend,  in  the  old  almanack  of  history, 
You'll  find  such  jumbles  made  of  fact  and  fiction; 
And  by  the  help  of  this,  or  some  such  juggle, 
Errors  spread  wide ; — truth  suffers  in  the  struggle. 
Doctrines  are  lisped  by  infants ;  taught  in  schools. 
And  are  believed :  for  who  contends  with  fools  ? 
To  customary  words  men  still  will  link 
Their  faith — poor  dolts — imagining  they  think  ! 
WUch.  The  height,  the  might, 

Of  wisdom's  light, 
,     The  knowledge  from  the  wide  world  hidden, 
Cheers  humblest  minds : 
Who  seeks  not  finds  : 
The  welcome  guest  is  the  unbidden. 
Faust.  This  nonsense,  so  like  meaning,  splits 
My  skull.     I  soon  would  lose  my  wits : 
Methinks,  a  million  fools  in  choir 
Are  raving  and  will  never  tire. 

Meph.  Enough  !  enough  !  incomparable  sibyl ! 
Hand  us  the  drink — fill  the  cup  to  the  brim — 
No  thimblefulls  for  us — no  niggard  dribble — 
Fear  not — such  draught  will  never  injure  him, 
He  is  one  of  us,  and  of  the  highest  grade  : 
Has  drunk  deep  before  now — be  not  afraid  ! 

\^I7ie  Witch,  7vith  many  ceremo7iies^  pours  the  drink  itito  a 
cup :  as  Faust  raises  it  to  his  mouth,  a  light  flame  rises. 


FAUST.  205 

Off  with  it  fast — why  should  you  fear  it  ? 
— Once  down,  'twill  warm  your  heart  and  cheer  it. 
How's  this  ?  7ny  friend,  and  much  the  same 
As  one  of  us — afraid  of  flame  ? 

\The  Witch  dissolves  the  circle.     Faust  steps  out. 

Meph.  [to  Faust].  Now  !  out  at  once  !  you  must  not  rest ! 

Witc/i  [to  Faust].  Much  good  may  it  do !     [Aside.]     I 
hope  the  best  ! 

Mep/i.  [to  the  Witch].  If  I  can  serve  you,  sure  you  might 
Command  me,  on  Walpurgis  night. 

The  Witch.  Here  is  a  song — a  pretty  glee. 
Hum  it  a  few  times, — you  will  see 
Some  merit  in  it,  and  effect 
More  than  you  would  at  first  expect. 

Meph.   [to   Faust].    Come,  quick!    be  for  the  present 

guided : 
This  draught  will  do  you  good,  provided 
It  gets  fair  play;  but  it  requires 
Brisk  motion  till  the  frame  perspires, 
And  its  full  force  is  felt  to  dart 
At  once  through  each  and  every  part. 
And  then,  not  sooner,  will  I  teach 
What  joys  the  lazy  hand  can  reach, 
Of  indolent  voluptuousness. 
The  pleasures  that  our  nobles  bless  ;— 
Soon  in  thy  cheery  heart,  I  trow, 
Will  Cupid  rock  him  to  and  fro. 


2o6  FAUST. 

Already  the  young  urchin  kirks 
Within,  and  in  the  spirit  works. 

Faust.  Once  more  ! — one  other  look  into  the  glass  ! — 
Fair  form— too  fair  more  than  a  form  to  be ! 
Meph,  Come  !  come  !  no  form  the  beauties  can  surpass, 
That  soon  in  living  woman  thou  shnlt  see  ! 
[Aside.]  With  this  draught  in  him  he  will  meet 
A  Helena  in  every  street ! 


The  Street. 

Fausf  \to  Margaret  passhig  on\  Fair  lady^  may  I  offer 
you  my  arm ; 
And  will  you  suffer  me  to  see  you  home  ? 

Marg.  I  am  no  lady — and  I  am  not  fair 
I  want  no  guide  to  show  me  the  way  home. 

\pise7igages  herself^  and  exit. 
Faust.  By  Heaven,  she  is  a  lovely  child  ; 
A  fairer  never  met  my  eye, 
Modest  she  seems,  and  good  and  mild, 

Though  something  pert  was  her  reply — 
The  red  lips  bright — the  cheek's  soft  light — 
My  youth  hatli  not  departed  quite  ! 
She  passed,  her  timid  eyes  declining, 
Deep  in  my  heart  they  still  are  shining — 
And  her  light  spirits'  lively  play 
Hath  stolen  me  from  myself  away  ! 


FA  UST.  207 

M  EPH I  STorii ELES  aiicrs. 

Faust  Hearken  here,  sir,  get  me  the  girl ;  and  fast. 

Meph.  The  girl ! — what  girl  ? 

Fansf.  She  that  this  moment  passed. 

Meph.  What — she  ?  she  was  but  now  at  church 
At  her  confession — I  was  there. 
And,  hid  by  the  confession  chair, 
Was  listening  to  her  from  my  lurch. 
Poor  thing — she  is  all  innocence — - 
Had  nothing  in  the  world  to  tell ! 
With  such  to  meddle  is  not  well. 
Her  purity  is  a  defence, 
That  leaves  the  tempter  no  pretence. 
Upon  this  child  I  have  no  power. 

Faust,  She's  passed  fourteen,  if  she's  an  hour  ! 

Meph.  Could  Liederlich  be  vrorse  than  this  ? 
The  profligate,  whose  folly  is, 
To  think  each  flower  of  beauty  his. 
Calls  it  a  purchasable  trifle, 
And  every  charm  he  sees  would  rifle ; 
Thinks  truth  and  honour  but  a  name-— 
My  friend,  give  up  this  hopeless  game. 

Faust.  Sound  doctrine  this,  most  reverend, 
I  hope  your  sermon's  at  an  end :  < 

Now,  once  for  all,  conceited  fellow, 
I  am  determined  on't,  and  tell  you, 


2o8  FAUST. 

She  must,  this  very  night,  be  mine  : 
You  and  I  part,  if  you  decline. 

Meph.  Compose  yourself — be  reasonable  — 
If  in  a  fortnight  I  be  able 
To  make  out  opportunities  ! 

Faust.  A  fortnight  1  give  me  but  seven  hours  ! 
I  want  no  devil  to  help  me  then, 
And  ask  no  aid  from  any  powers 
But  those  belonging  to  all  men, 
To  fool  a  child  like  this  with  ease, 
And  make  her  anything  I  please. 

Meph,  How  like  a  Frenchman  !  I  regret 
To  see  you  discontented  ;  yet 
Why  thus  impatient'.^  the  delight 
Is,  after  all,  less  exquisite, 
Than  when  with  some  delay  and  doubt, 
And  difficulty  fenced  about, 
You  win  the  treasure  guarded  long ; 
Play  with  the  pretty  thing  awhile, 
And  toy  and  trifle  and  beguile, 
And  to  your  will  the  soft  wax  mould, — 
As  witness  many  a  story  told, 
Of  true  love  in  Italian  song. 

Faust.  But,  fortunately,  I  require 
No  such  incentives  to  desire. 

Meph.  Now,  not  to  take  or  give  offence, 
Believe  me,  here  all  violence 
Is  useless — in  a  litde  while 


FAUST,  209 

The  damsel  may  be  won  by  guile ; — 
A  stratagem,  perhaps,  may  gain 
The  fortress — storming  it  were  vain  ! 

Faust.  Give  me,  meanwhile,  some  little  thing 
Of  hers — a  garter  or  a  ring — 
A  kerchief  from  her  snowy  breast — 
Show  me  the  chamber  of  her  rest ! 

Meph.  To  prove  how  sensibly  I  feel 
Your  pangs,  and,  if  I  could,  to  heal ; 
I  gratify,  without  delay. 
Your  wish,  and  take  you  there  to-day. 
Faust.  And  shall  I  see  her  ?  have  her  ? 
Meph.  No ! 

She  to  a  neighbour's  has  to  go, 
And  when  I  find  that  she  is  gone, 
You  may  indulge  yourself  alone ; 
Breathe  in  the  very  room  where  she 
Hath  slept,  and  dream  of  joys  to  be. 
Faust.  May  we  go  now  ? 

Meph.  It  scarce  were  pleasant 

So  early. 

Faust.  Make  me  out  some  present. 
Meph.  Presents  so  soon  !  this  promises 
Speedy  success— they  all  love  dress! 
Oh,  I  know  many  a  place  of  pleasure, 
Where  such  things  are,  and  many  a  treasure 
"^"ried  of  old,  and  soon  will  find 
Some  lure  to  win  the  young  thing's  mind. 


210  FAUST. 

Evening.—^  Neat  Little  Roovu 

Margaret.  I  would  give  something  now  to  know 
The  gentleman  who  met  me,  though ; 
He  had  a  proud  and  princely  air, 

Is  one  of  the  nobiUty ; 
Look  on  his  brow,  you  read  it  there, 
And  if  he  were  not,  he  would  stare 

V/ith  somewhat  more  civility.  [Exit. 

Mephistopiieles  and  Faust.  , 

Meph.  Come  in — tread  softly — but  come  in. 

Fa2(st.    [after  a  pause].    Leave    me,    now   leave   me,   I 
entreat. 

Meph.  [prying  abotit\  The  place  is  tidy  and  quite  clean ; 
•—Not  every  damsel's  is  so  neat.  [Exit. 

Faust,  [looking  round].  How  calm  !  how  happy  dwells  the 
tender  light 
In  this  still  sanctuary  reposing  here, 
And  the  sweet  spirit  of  peace  pervading  all, 
And  blessing  all. — Spirit  of  peace  and  love, 
I  give  myself  to  thee  !     Oh,  love,  whose  breatli 
Is  fed  on  the  delicious  dev/  of  hope, 
Be  thou  henceforth  my  life  ! 

How  round  us  breathe 
In  every  tiling  tlie  same  prevailing  quiet 
And  neatness,  an4  the  feeling  of  contentment ! 


PAUST.  211 

— In  low  estate  what  more  than  riches  are, 
And  this  poor  cell  how  very,  very  happy ! 

[He  throivs  himself  on  the  leaiherji  ar/n -chair  beside  the  bed. 
Receive  me,  thou  who  hast  with  open  arm, 
Year  after  year,  the  generations  gone 
Welcomed  in  joy  and  grief:  how  many  a  swarm 
Of  children  round  this  patriarchal  throne 
Gathering  have  clung — perhaps  beside  this  seat 
A  happy  child — I  well  can  fancy  it — 
Even  now  she  scarce  is  more — on  Christmas  eve 
My  love  has  bent  her  at  her  grandsire's  feet; 
*Mong  the  good  children  each  year  to  receive 
The  gifts  that  heaven's  dear  child  comes  down  to  give. 
Kissing  the  good  old  man  I  see  her  stand, 
Her  young  round  cheeks  pressed  on  his  withered  hand. 

The  spirit  of  contentment,  maiden  dear, 
Is  breathing  in  thy  very  atmosphere ; 
1  feel  it  sway  me  while  I  linger  here. 
The  sense  of  neatness,  felt  in  every  thing, 
Speaks  with  a  mother's  voice,  and  bids  thee  spread 
The  little  table  with  its  covering. 
The  floor  with  crisp  sand  crackling  to  the  tread. 
Every  where  round  the  hand  beloved  I  trace, 
That  makes  a  paradise  of  any  place. 

Here  could  I  linger  hours  on  hours, 
Where  dreams  and  meditative  thought, 


212  FAUST. 

Ard;  Nature,  thy  benignant  powers 
Within  her  virgin  bosom  wrought, 
As  day  by  day  each  influence  pure. 
Of  heaven  and  earth  her  heart  mature, 
And  fain  would  welcome  forth,  and  win 
To  light,  the  angel  from  within. 

Here  lay  the  slumbering  child,  her  tender  breast 
Filled  with  the  warmth  of  happy  life  ;  and  here 
The  heavenly  image,  on  the  soul  imprest. 
Came  out,  as  clouds  past  off,  divinely  clear. 

And  thou?  what  brings  thee  hither  now? 
In  this  mad  moment  what  art  thou  ? 
These  softenings  of  the  heart!  and  then 
This  rage  of  wild  desire  again  ! 
Poor  Faust !  has  some  magic  cloud 
Befooled  thine  eyes  ?  thy  reason  bowed  ? 
'Else  why  this  burning  passion  strange? 
And  why  to  love  this  sudden  change  ? 
Are  we  the  sport  of  every  breath  of  air  ? 

And,  should  she  now  return  and  meet 
Thee  here,  how  would  the  boaster  shrink 
Into  the  coward  !  at  her  feet 
In  what  confusion  sink ! 

Meph.  {ejitering\.   Away — I  see  her  at  the  door. 

Faust.  I  go,  and  I  return  no  more. 

Meph.  This  casket,  with  its  jewels  rare,     . 


FAUST.  213 

I  got  it — but  no  matter  where — 
Or— what  was  to  be  given  instead, — 
Some  things  are  better  left  unsaid; — 
Quick — put  it  in  the  press — 'twill  seize  on 
Her  fancy — lull  asleep  her  reason ; 
Then,  guess  you,  how  the  dream  will  end. 
I  got  them  for  another  friend  : 
The  casket  and  the  trifles  in  it 
He  thought  might  buy  a  happy  minute; 
And  he  was  one  who  knew  the  fashion 
In  which  to  woo,  and  woman's  passion  ; 
But  child  is  child,  and  maid  and  lover 
Play  the  same  game  the  wide  world  over. 

Faust.  I  know  not ;  ought  I  ? 

Meph.  Can  you  ask  it? 

Perhaps  you  wish  to  keep  the  casket ; 
If  so— and  that  'tis  avarice — 
I  wish  you  joy  of  this  cheap  vice; 
I'm  glad  the  momentary  bubble 
Of  love  has  burst — it  saves  me  trouble  ; 
And  easier  pastimes  you  may  find 
Than  practising  upon  her  mind. 
My  poor  brain  scarcely  understands 
What  you  are  at— I  rub  my  hands 
And  scratch  my  head. 

\_Places  the  casket  in  the  press,  and  doses  the  lock. 
Come — come — what  do  you  mean  ?  the  object  is 


214  FAUST. 

To  wind  this  sweet  young  child  to  your  wish  and  will. 

x\nd  now— as  I  live —you're  looking  starched  and  chill, 

As  if  you  were  going  up  to  your  lecture-chair 

With  Physics  in  the  body  standing  there, 

And  Metaphysica  in  her  grey  hair. 

,Come  !  come  !  \Exciuit, 

Enter  Margaret  [unth  a  lanij>\. 

Marg.  It  feels  so  close,  so  sultry  here, 
Yet  out  of  doors  I  thought  it  chill. 
—When  will  my  mother  come  ?     A  thrill 
Runs  through  my  frame — I  am,  I  fear, 
A  foolish,  foolish  woman. 

[^Slie  begins  to  sing  as  she  undresses  herself. 

There  was  a  king  in  Thule, 

And  he  loved  an  humble  maid ; 

And  she  who  loved  him  truly, 

^Vhen  she  came  to  her  death-bed, 

A  golden  cup  she  gave  him, 
Which  none  could  better  prize ; 
And  ever,  a?  he  drank  of  it, 
Tears  dimmed  his  flowing  eyes. 

And  when  he  came  to  die, 
To  his  heirs  his  wealth  he  told  ; 
Left  ail  without  a  sigh 
But  his  mistress'  cup  of  gold 


FAUST.  215 

As  at  the  royal  banquet 
Among  his  knights  sate  he, 
In  the  high  hall  of  his  flithers, 
In  their  fortress  o'er  the  sea, 

Up  stood  the  gay  old  monarch ; 

For  the  last  time  up  he  stood  ; 

For  the  last  time  drained  the  blessed  cup, 

And  threw  it  in  the  flood. 

He  saw  it  falling,  filling, 

And  sinking  in  the- sea; 

His  eyes  lost  sight  of  it,  and  sank, 

And  never  more  drank  he. 

\Slie  opens  the  press  to  put  in  Jier  clothes^  and 
perceives  the  casket. 
How  came  this  brilliant  casket  here  ? 
I  locked  the  press,  I'd  almost  swear. 
The  cover's  beautiful — I  wonder 
What  it  may  be  that  lies  under  ? 
Some  pledge  for  money  by  my  mother 
Lent  to  somebody  or  other. 
I  think  I'll  open  it — and^  see, 
Attached  to  it,  and  tempting  mC; 
A  riband  with  a  little  ke}'. 
How  very  beautiful  it  is  ! 

I've  never  seen  the  like  of  this  !  ' 

Jewels  and  pearls ! — At  mask  or  ball 
'Twould  grace  the  proudest  dame  of  all 


2i6  FAUST, 


Who  glitter  at  high  festival. 


I  wonder  how  'twould  look  on  me  ? 
Whose  can  the  glorious  splendour  be  ? 

\She  pjtts  them  on,  and  stands  before  the  glass. 
Oh,  if  I  had  these  ear-rings  only  ! 
Drest  thus,  I  seem  a  different  creature  ! 
What  good  are  charms  of  form  and  feature 

Though  poor  maids  are 

Both  mild  and  fair. 
The  world  for  ever  leaves  them  lonely — 

Man  may  praise, 

Yet  half  he  says 
Seems  less  like  kindness  than  compassion — 

For  gold  he  strives, 

For  gold  he  wives — 
Alas  !  the  poor  are  not  in  fashion  ! 

Promenade. — Faust  walking  up  and  down  in  thought — to  him, 

Meph.  By  Love,  which  I  contemn,  and  Hell's 
Essence  of  fire — things  can't  be  worse  : 
Oh,  that  I  could  be  something  else 
Than  what  I  am,  that  I  might  curse ! 

Faust.  What  ails  thee  now  ?    What  pinches  thee  so  sore  ? 
A  face  like  that  I  never  saw  before. 

Meph.  I'd  damn  myself  to  everlasting  evil, 
But  that  I  am  myself  the  devil. 

Faust.  This  frantic  scene — what  can  it  mean 


FAUST. 

Meph.  Think,  only  think,  that  splendid  set 
Of  pearls,  I  got  for  Margaret,   ■ 
A  priest  has  made  his  own  of  them. 
Her  mother,  soon  as  she  detected 
The  treasure,  something  wrong  suspected. 
The  old  hag  o'er  her  book  of  prayer 
Sits  moping,  mumbling,  grumbling  there, 

Or,  for  she  has  a  fine  sharp  nose. 
Through  the  house  prowling,  prying  goes, 
On  the  scent  to  ascertain, 
For  the  smell  decides  right  well 
What  is  holy,  what  profane, 
She  snuffled  at  the  chain  and  gem, 
Found  not  the  smell  she  likes  in  them. 
*'  My  child,"  she  said,  "  things  thus  unholy, 
Or  suited  not  for  one  so  lowly. 
Will  seize  and  fasten  on  the  heart. 
And  hold  it  till  health,  peace,  depart. 
To  the  Virgin  Mary  bring 
These  in  humble  offering ; — 
Sinful  things  of  earth  we  give, 

And  receive  from  Heaven,  instead, 
Heaven's  own  food  restorative, 
That  our  precious  souls  may  live 

Fed  on  manna — angels'  bread  !" 
At  this  poor  Madge  looked  far  from  pleasant, 
Provoked  at  having  lost  the  present : 


2\ 


2i8  FAUST. 

■Vhy,"  thought  she,  is  the  gift  rejected? 

Or  he,  who  gave  it  me,  suspected  ? 

The  giver  is  a  rich  man — must 

Be  generous — and  therefore  just 

And  good — and  why  should  we  distrust? 

The  mother  strait  sends  for  the  priest  3 

He  comes,  and  he  enjoys  the  jest. 

His  features  brighten  up  with  rapture, 

And  thus  he  preaches  o'er  his  capture  : — 

•'  You  feel  the  matter  right,  dear  madam  ; 

These  pearls — 'twere  wrong  the  poor  child  had  'em  ■ 

To  them  who  strive  is  grace  accorded, 

And  he  who  conquers  is  rewarded. 

The  Church  will  feel  (we  cannot  question) 

No  difficulty  of  digestion  ; 

Will  swallow  without  fear  of  surfeit 

The  ill-got  goods  that  sin  makes  forfeit ; 

Whole  realms,  their  produce  and  their  profit; 

She  eats  up,  and  thinks  nothing  of  it : 

The  Church  alone,  with  conscience  quiet, 

Can  thrive  upon  this  doubtful  diet." 

Fatist  That  this  is  false  each  day  evinces, 

Or  true  as  well  of  Jews  and  princes. 

Meplt.  On  this,  he  svrept  into  his  pocket 

Ear-rings  and  bracelet^  chain  and  locket, 

\nd  made  no  more  of  pearls  and  casket, 

Than  if  he  pocketed  a  basket 


FAUST.  2.19 

Of  nuts, — then  treats  them  with  a  lecture 
On  vanity, — states  his  conjecture 
Upon  the  uses  of  affliction, 
And  leaves  them  with  his  benediction. 

Faust.  And  Margaret 

Meph.  Sits  in  restless  mood- 

Does  nothing — knows  not  what  she  should — 
Thinks  night  and  day  on  what  she  lost, 
But  dwells  on  him  who  gave  them  most. 

Faust.  Poor  thing  !  her  grief  goes  to  my  heart ! 
Bring  more  gems — come — come — no  delay — 
The  first,  coarse  common  things  were  they. 

Meph.  [m  affectedvexatio?i\.  Mere  trinkets  flung  in  sport  away ! 
— My  toil  is  nothing,  nor  the  value 
Of  what  I  give  ! 

Faust.  Be  silent,  shall  you 

Thus  mock  at  me  and  my  affection  ? 
Act  for  my  ends,  by  my  direction. 
Court  thou  the  widow — tax  invention 
For  sweet  things — draw  oft^  her  attention — 
Come — come — you're  dull  as  water-gruel,— 
Up — up — away  for  chain  and  jewel ! 

Meph.  My  lord,  I  cheerfully  obey.  \Exit  Faust. 

How  a  man  fooled  with  love  v/ill  fling  away 
Sun,  stars,  earth,  heaven,  upon  the  chosen  lady — 
All  cheap  as  presents  to  a  child  on  May-day !  [Exit. 


220  ,  FAUST. 

The  Neighbour's  House. 
Martha  [atone].  God  help  and  pity  me,  and  pardon 
My  poor  old  man  !  he  treats  me  badly ;  — 
Thus  to  go  off — 'tis  very  hard  on 
A  wedded  wife, — here  pining  sadly 
Am  I  upon  my  lonely  straw. 
I  loved  and  doted  on  him  so, 
His  very  will  to  me  was  law ; 
And  for  no  reason  thus  to  go 
And  die  abroad  [weejfing] — he  must  have  died — 
Yet  'twould  be  satisfactory 
If  I  could  have  it  certified. 

£7ifer  Margaret. 

Marg.  Martha. 

Mar.  My  little  Margery  ! 

Sweet  child,  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 

Marg.  My  knees  are  sinking  under  me. 
I've  found  another  casket,  one 
Like  that  so  lately  had  and  gone, 
Laid  in  my  press — of  ebony — 
The  rings  and  jewels  in  it  are 
More  brilliant  than  the  former  far. 

Mar.  Your  mother  must  not  hear  it,  though, 
Or  straightway  to  the  priest  they  go. 

Marg.  Look  at  them,  only  look  at  them. 

Mar.  Fortunate  girl. 


FAUST.  221 

Marg.  Alas,  one  gem 

I  cannot — can  I  ? — ever  dare 
Put  on  in  church  or  any  where. 

Mar.  Come  here  as  often  as  you  please, 
And  try  them  on  where  no  one  sees : 
Before  the  glass  be  whole  hours  spent 
Adjusting  every  ornament. 
We  will  enjoy  their  full  effect, 
With  none  your  secret  to  suspect ; 
Then  as  occasions  come,  a  ball, 
A  dance,  a  day  of  festival. 
We  let  them  one  by  one  appear — 
A  chain,  a  pearl-drop  in  the  ear — 
And  coin  some  story  or  another 
To  keep  the  matter  from  your  mother. 

Marg.  Twice  to  have  had  such  caskets  brought, 
There's  something  in  it  more  than  ought !  \_A  knock. 

Good  God  !  my  mother  !  I'll  be  seen. 

Mar.  'Tis  a  strange  gentleman. — Come  in. 

Meph.  \e7iters\.  I've  come  unceremoniously ; 

But,  ladies,  you  will  pardon  me. 

[Retreats  respectfully  before  Margaret. 
To  Martha  Schwerdtlein  was  my  visit : 
I'm  told  this  is  her  lodging.     Is  it? 

Mar.  Sir,  Tm  the  person.     What's  your  pleasure  ? 

Meph.  I'll  call  when  you  are  more  at  leisure  : 
You  have  a  guest  of  consequence ; 


22  2  FAUST. 

I'll  call  again  in  three  hours  hence. 

Mar,  \to  Marg.\  The  funniest  thing  I  ever  knev,' — 
The  gentleman  imagined  you 
To  be  some  lady  of  high  rank. 
I  can't  but  laugh. 

Marg.  I  have  to  thank 

The  gentleman's  extreme  good  nature. 
I  am  a  poor  young  humble  creature  : 
These  ornaments  are  not  my  own. 

Meph.  I  did  not  judge  by  them  alone  ; 
'Tis  something  in  your  mien  and  glance. 
My  visit  was  a  lucky  chance. 

Mar.  \aside\.  To  know  what  brings  him,  I  am  dying. 

Meph.  I  wish  I  had  news  more  gratifying ; 
But  blame  me  not,  though  sad  it  prove. 
Your  husband's  dead,  and  sends  his  love. 

Mar.  Is  dead  !  the  faithful  creature  dead  ! 
My  husband — would  'twere  I  instead. 

Marg.  Friend,  let  thy  strong  good  sense  prevail 
O'er  grief— 

Meph.  And  hear  the  sad  detail. 

Marg.  I  fear  at  all  to  think  of  love, 
Such  loss  my  certain  death  would  prove. 

Meph.  Grief  waits  on  joy — ^joy  follows  grief, 

Mar.  Tell  on ;  it  will  be  some  relief. 

Meph.  In  Padua,  at  St.  Anthony's, 
In  consecrated  earth  he  lies  ! 


FA  US1\  223 

A  cool  bed  under  the  church  floor, 
Where  he  sleeps  soundly. 

Mar-  Nothing  more  ? 

Meph.  Oh,  yes  !  a  death-bed  legacy  ; 
His  last  commission  was  to  thee. 
To  have  three  hundred  masses  said, 
With  requiem  service  for  the  dead. 
His  last  was  a  religious  thought : 
This  is  the  whole  of  what  I  brought. 

Mar.  What,  not  a  coin,  no  trinket  token, 
Nothing  to  soothe  his  poor  heart-broken  ? 
Why,  the  most  paltry  artisan,  * 

The  veriest  wretch  in  form  of  man. 
Some  small  memorial  still  will  hoard. 
Some  little  pledge  in  secret  stored. 
To  show  his  love  is  not  forgot — 
Will  starve — will  beg — but  parts  it  not  ! 

Meph.  Madam,  I'm  sorry  for  his  blindness 
To  the  true  value  of  your  kindness  : 
'Tis  your  mistake,  to  think  he  squandered 
His  money — as  he  died,  he  pondered 
The  past — and,  as  his  heart  relented,         ' 
His  sins  and  his  bad  luck  repented. 

Marg.  Unhappy  men  !  I  weep  for  them ! 
He  shall  not  want  my  requiem  ! 

Meph.  The  sweet  child  !  what  a  tender  touch  of 
True  feeling  !  that's  the  gid  for  me — 


224  FAUST, 

I  take  It  you  deserve  to  be 

Out  of  hand  married,  and  made  much  of. 

Marg.  Time  long  enough  'twill  be  till  then. 

Meph.  You'll  find  admirers  'mong  the  men 
A  husband  in  due  course,  no  doubt, 
I'll  see  to  bring  it  soon  about, 
And  if  not  married  out  and  out, 
With  a  gallant  we  can  mayhap 
Fill  up  as  pleasantly  the  gap. 

Marg,  'Tis  not  the  custom  of  the  place. 

Meph.  Custom  or  not,  it  is  the  ca  se. 

Mar.  Tell  on. 

Meph.  I  stood  at  his  bedside ; 

The  rotting  straw  on  which  he  died, 
— Something  less  foul  than  dung,  not  much, 
Infectious  to  the  smell  and  toudi. — 
He  died  a  Christian,  and  in  debt. 
Settled  his  scores  with  Heaven  ; — the  trifle 
Due  at  the  wine- shop,  is  due  yet. 
*'  Alas,"  said  he,  "  I  used  my  wife  ill. — 
Would  die  at  peace,  did  she  forgive." 

Mar.  Poor  man  !  I  long  ago  forgave. 

Meph.  "  But  'twas  her  folly,  as  I  live." 

Mar.  What !    standing  on  the  very  grave 
Did  he  say  this  ?   assert  this  lie  ? 
And  did  he  tell  you  it  was  I, 
I  who  was  wrong  ? — 


FAUST. 


•^5 


Meph.  He  did  :    but  out 

The  truth  has  come,  and  leaves  no  doubt. 
He  lied  :    your  very  countenance 
Decides  the  matter  at  a  glance  !— 
"Mine  was  hard  work,  you  may  conjecture, 
(Thus  ran  his  peevish  death-bed  lecture), 
Fh-st;  all  her  children  to  be  fed  ; 
And  while  I  toiled  to  make  them  bread. 
Not  let  to  eat  my  crust  in  peace." 

Mar.  What,  will  his  slanders  never  cease  ? 
Tove,  Honour,  Truth,  forgotten  quite ; 
Our  tendernesses  day  and  night. 

Meph.  Not  so  :   he  thought  of  you  with  great  affection. 
"  As  I,"  said  he,  "  was  late  from  Malta  sailing, 
I  found  myself  in  prayer ;  a  sudden  rapture, 
Following  a  burst  of  tender  recollection 
Of  wife  and  children,  and  the  prayer  prevailing 
Was  heard  on  high.     That  day  we  made  a  capture  j 
A  Turkish  vessel  laden  v/ith  rich  treasure 
For  the  great  sultan  :  'twas  a  gallant  fight, 
And  valour  triumphed,  and  was  vv^ell  rewarded  : 
And  when  they  came  the  shares  of  each  to  measure, 
I  got,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  my  right." 

Mar.  What?  how?  a  prize?  think  you,  he  buried  it? 

Meph.  Who  knows  where  heaven's  four  winds  have  scat- 
tered it  ? 
Bury  it?— *no,  his  heart  was  far  from  sordid  : 

H 


226  FAUST. 

That  his  death  proves,  his  generous  nature  hurried  it 

A  lady,  one  of  your  nice  Neapolitans, 

As  he  was  loitering  in  their  pleasant  city, 

Looked  on  his  loneliness,  kind  soul,  with  pity, 

And  saw  his  vanity — and  soothed  and  flattered  it — 

Fastened  upon  him,  led  him  such  a  jolly  dance, 

That  with  his  cash,  and  him,  all  was  soon  over. 

Marks  of  affection,  too,  she  gave  her  lover, 

Of  such  a  kind,  that  to  the  blessed  hour 

In  whicli  your  poor  saint  died,  he  felt  their  power. 

Mar.  Scoundrel,  to  use  his  wife  and  children  so  ! 
Ought  not  the  poverty,  which  his  neglect 
Had  heaped  on  us,  his  shameless  course  have  checked  ? 

Meph.  It  ought ;  and  he  is  punished  for  it  now  : 
But  as  this  will  not  mend  the  case, 
I  would,  if  I  were  in  your  place, 
Put  on  my  mourning,  keep  a  good  eye  out. 
And  wed  again,  when  the  year  came  about. 

Mar.  Where  could  I  find,  in  this  wide  world  of  nienj 
Any  thing  like  my  own  poor  man  again  ? 
There  could  not  be  a  creature  kinder,  fonder  j 
His  only  fault  was,  he  from  home  would  wander ; 
And  when  I  think  of  him,  my  eyes  are  swimming : 
He  was  so  good,  without  a  single  vice, 
Except  his  taste  for  foreign  wines  and  women. 
And  the  society  they  bring — and  dice. 

Meph,  Well  1  if  on  his  side  he  had  only  made 


FAUST.  227 

Allowances  as  just  and  generous, 
Your  quarrels  had  been  easily  allayed. 
Why,  I  myself — if  you  indulge  me  thus — 
With  such  good  sense — in  a  few  little  things — 
Am  tempted  to  propose  exchanging  rings. 

Mar.  Oh,  sir,  you  are  a  pleasant  gentleman  : — 
Sure  you  were  speaking  but  in  jest. 

Meph,  [aside.]  I'd  best  be  off:  this  vile  old  pest 
Has  her  brains  turned  already  with  the  plan 
Of  marrying  me  at  once  outright ! 
My  only  safety  is  in  flight. 

Damn  her  !  she'll  keep  the  devil  to  his  word.  [To  Margaret. 
How  goes  it  with  your  heart  ? 

Marg.  What  means  my  lord  ? 

Meph.  \as  if  to  himself  ?\ — The  good  sweet  innocent  child  ! 
[Aloud ^  Ladies,  farewell  I 

Marg.  Farewell! 

Mar.  Sir  !  sir  !  don't  leave  us  till  you  tell 
One  little  matter  more  :  I  want  a  witness 
To  prove  his  death  and  burial — how — when — where — 
Formally  proved;  and  you  will  see  t>.e  fitness 
Of  having  it  on  record— 'twould  be  pleasant 
To  have  it  in  the  papers  of  the  week. 

Meph.  ^^  Al  the  month  of  two  witnesses  the  matter 
Shall  be  established." — By  good  luck,  at  present 
There's  one  in  town,  who  to  the  fact  can  speak; 
A  man  of  character  and  high  condition  : 

H  2 


228  FAUST. 

He'll  make  the  necessary  deposition— 
I'll  bring  him  in  the  evening. 

Mar.  Don't  be  later. 

Meph.  And  this  young  woman — shall  we  find  her  here? 
She  will  so  please  him — nay,  I  do  not  flatter  ; — 
A  fine  young  man — has  travelled  far  and  near — • 
Is  so  admired — and  so  admires  the  sex, 
And  has  so  true  a  feeling  of  decorum. 

Marg.  I  feel  afraid — to  meet  him  would  perplex 
And  so  confuse — I'd  blush  to  death  before- him. 

Meph.  Were  he  a  king — should  it  be  thus  ? 

Mar.  The  garden,  then,  behind  my  house— 
We  shall  expect  both  gentlemen 
This  evening  there— farewell  till  then. 

The  Street. — Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 

Faust.  How  fare  you  ?  goes  it  swimmingly  on  and  swift  ? 

MepJi.  Hurrah  !  my  friend — I'm  glad  to  see  your  heart 
On  fire — she  shall  be  yours  in  less  than  no  time : 
This  evening,  we  all  meet  at  Neighbour  Martha's. 
Of  all  the  women  that  I  ever  saw 
She  is  the  veriest  gipsy — is  the  one 
To  mould  his  Margaret  to  the  doctor's  purpose. 

Faust.  All  promises  well  so  far. 

Meph.  But  we  are  asked 

For  something  in  return. 


FAUST.  /229 

Faust.  That's  reasoncible — 

As  one  good  turn,  they  say,  deserves  another. 

Meph.  We  are  only  asked  to  make  a  deposition, 
In  proper  form,  that  her  dead  husband's  bones 
Are  lying  decently  interred  in  Padua, 
Quietly  resting  there  in  holy  ground. 

Faust.  Mighty  fine  doings  !  what  a  pretty  jaunt 
You  have  contrived  for  us  I 

Meph.  Saficta  simp  lie itas  i 

Why  should  we  go  ?  we  are  -asked  but  to  make  oath— • 
This  may  be  done  without  the  toil  of  travel, 
Or  trouble  of  any  kind. 

Faust.  Is  this  your  plan  ? 

If  you  have  nothing  better  to  propose, 
The  scheme  is  at  an  end. 

Meph.  Oh,  holy  man  ! 

Is    it    there    you    are    now?       Doctor,   is    this    your 

sciuple  ? 
Is  this  the  first  time  in  your  life  that  you 
Have  borne  false  witness  ?  have  you  lectured  on 
God— and  the  world— and  all  that  moves  therein — ' 
On  Man — and  on  "  how  thought  originates/' 
And  that  enigma,  man's  mysterious  nature, 
The  intellectual  and  the  moral  powers — 
Have  you  not  dealt  in  formal  definitions, 
With  forehead  unabashed,  amd  heart  undaunted.^ 
Yet,  if  you  did  but  own  the  truth,  your  conscience 


230  FA  UST. 

Must  tell  you — does  it  not  ?— you  know  no  more 
Of  all  these  matters  than  of  Schwerdtlein's  death, 

Faust  Thou  art,  and  wert,  and  thou  wilt  ever  be 
A  liar  and  sophist. 

Meph.  Yes ;  if  by  appearances 

Only  you  judge  :  you,  a  philosopher, 
Should  look  a  little  deeper — you  yourself, 
Ere  two  days  pass — will  you  not  ? — all  in  honour, 
As  you  would  call  it— fool  this  poor  child's  fancy, 
And  swear, — your  casuistry  will  then  be  silent — 
How  from  your  soul  you  love  her — love  her  ever. 

Faiisf.  Yes,  and  such  oath  is  true — 

Meph.  — As  any  other  y 

And  then  of  everlasting  faith  and  love 
Will  be  the  talk, — of  all-absorbing  passion — 
Of  the  one  feeling — felt  but  once— for  one  : 
Will  this,  too,  be  a  language  that  the  heart 
Can  recognize  as  true  ? 

Faust.  Peace,  fiend  !  it  will, 

If  that  I  feel,  and  if  for  the  emotion — 
The  frenzy  call  it,  rather — I  still  seek 
A  name  and  can  find  none — if  through  the  world 
My  fancy  ranging  seeks  analogies 
That  are,  and  ever  must  remain,  imperfect — 
If  words  that  speak  of  time  be  insufficient 
Even  feebly  to  express  this  burning  feeling, 
And  that,  thus  forced,  I  call  it  endless — deathless — 


FAUST.  231 

Eternal — yes,  eternal — say  you  that 
Language  like  this  isa  Satanic  lie  ? 

Meph.  Yet  I  am  right. 

Faust.  Hark  ye — take  this  with  you — 

I'll  spare  my  lungs,  and  cease  to  argue  further — 
But,  as  I  said,  take  this  with  you ; — no  matter 
What  side  a  man  adopts,  or  of  what  subject— 
If  he  has  but  a  tongue,  he'll  not  want  reasons 
To  prove  him  in  the  right :  as  now,  for  instance  ;— 
I'm  tired  of  talk — you  then  are  in  the  right — 
You  must  be,  sure,  I  have  no  help  for  it. 

The  Garden. — Margaret  ofi  Faust's  arjn,  Martha  with 
Mephistopheles. —  Walking  loiteringly  up  and  doivn* 

Marg.  You  do  but  play  with  my  simplicity, 
And  put  me  to  the  blush.     A  traveller 
Learns   such    good    nature — is   so    pleased   with  all 

things 
And  every  body : — my  poor  talk,  I  know, 
Has  no  attraction,  that  could  for  a  moment 
Engage  the  attention  of  a  man,  who  has 
Seen  so  much  of  the  world 

Faust.  One  glance — one  Vvord — 

One  little  word  from  thee,  I  value  more 
Than  all  the  wisdom  of  th*  world's  wisest  ones. 

[Kisses  her  hand. 


232  FAUST. 

Marg,  How  could  you  think  of  it  ?  How  could  you  kiss  it? 
It  is  so  coarse — so  hard — is  spoiled  with  all  work 
On  every  day — how  could  it  but  be  coarse  ? 
My  mother's  habits  are  too  close — my  tasks 
Are  too  severe.  \_They  pass  on. 

Mar.  And  are  you- — are  you  always  travelling  thus? 

Meph.  Alas  !  that  claims  of  business  and  of  duty 
Should  force  me  to  it.     We  feel  pangs  at  parting 
From  many  a  spot  where  yet  we  may  not  loiter. 

Ma7'.  In  youth's  wild  days,  it  cannot  but  be  pleasant 
This  idle  roaming  round  and  round  the  world, 
With  wildfire  spirits,  and  heart  disengaged  : 
But  soon  comes  age  and  sorrow  j  and  to  drag, 
Through  the  last  years  of  life,  down  to  the  grave 
A  solitary  creature — like  the  wretch, 
Who  moves  from  prison  on  to  execution — 
This  must  be  bad  for  body  and  for  soul. 

Meph.  You  make  me  shudder  at  the  dreary  prospect. 

Mar.  Be  wise — secure  yourself  in  time.        \They  pass  on, 

Marj.  Yes  ! — out  of  sight,  soon  out  of  mind. 
I  feel  this  courtesy  is  kind ; — 
That  you,  who  must  have  many  a  friend 
Highly  informed,  should  condescend 
To  speak  with  one  in  my  poor  station. 
Of  such  neglected  education, 
*— In  every  thing  so  unimproved— 

Faust.  Believe  me,  dearest,  best  beloved, 


FAUST.  ^33 

That,  which  the  world  calls  information, 
Is  often  but  the  glitter  chilling 
Of  vanity  and  want  of  feeling. 

Marg.  How? 

Faust.  Ah  !  that— singleness  of  heart, 

And  absence  of  all  artifice, 
— Gifts,  as  they  are,  above  all  price, 
Heaven's  holiest  blessing — should  be  thus 
Of  their  own  worth  unconscious  ! 
That— meekness,  gentleness,  the  treasure 
Which  Nature,  who  doth  still  impart 
To  all  in  love,  and  lavish  measure, 
Gives  to  the  child,  whom  she  loves  dearest,— 
Should — ~ 

Marg.  Think  of  me  when  you  are  gone, 

A  moment  now  and  then — of  you 
I  shall  have  time  enough  to  think. 

Faust.  Your  time  is  passed,  then,  much  alone  ? 

Marg.  Why,  yes  ;  and  then  our  house  affairs, 
Poor  though  they  be^  bring  many  cares. 
We  have  no  servant  maid,  and  I 
Must  cook,  knit,  sew,  must  wash  and  dry ; 
Run  far  and  near — rise  ere  the  light, 
And  not  lie  down  till  late  at  night. 
And  then  my  mother's  temper's  such, 
In  every  thing  she  asks  so  much  ; 
Of  saving  has  so  strict  a  sense, 


234  FAUST. 

And  is  so  fearful  of  expense ; 

So  anxious,  so  particular  : 

— Not  that  our  circumstances  are 

So  limited,  as  not  to  give 

The  means  like  other  folk  to  live. 

The  property  my  father  had. 

And  died  possessed  of,  was  not  bad : 

A  house,  and  garden  here,  that  yields 

Something  worth  while,  and  some  town  fields 

Just  at  the  gates.     My  days,  somehow, 

Are  tolerably  quiet  now — 

My  brother  earns  a  soldier's  bread 

Abroad ; — my  little  sister's  dead. 

Trouble  enough  I  had  with  her, 

Yet  cheerfully  would  I  incur 

Ten  times  the  toil — so  dear  was  she. 

Faust.  A  very  angel,  if  like  thee  ! 

Marg.  Even  from  its  birth,  the  child  I  nurst— - 
And  so  it  loved  me  from  the  first. 
Born  to  distress — its  father  torn 
Away  by  death,  ere  it  was  born. 
My  mother,  worn  out  with  disease — 
We  long  had  given  her  up  for  gone- 
Recovering  faintly  by  degrees. 
Came  slowly,  very  slowly  on. 
She  had  no  strength— she  could  not  think 
Of  nursing  it — and  so,  poor  thing, 


FAUST,  235 

I  reared  it ;  for  its  natural  drink, 
With  milk  and  water  tried  to  bring 
The  creature  on — and  thus  my  own 
It  seemed  to  be,  and  mine  alone — 
Lay  on  my  arm,  and  on  my  breast 
Would  play  and  nestle,  and  was  blest. 

Faust  This  must  have  been  the  purest  joy. 

Marg.  Yet  were  there  hours  of  great  annoy— 
Its  cradle  was  by  my  bedside  : 
It  kept  me  half  the  night  awake, 
To  make  it  quiet  when  I  tried. — 
At  times  must  I  get  up,  to  take 
The  little  urchin  into  bed ; 
This  would  not  do — then  must  I  rise, 
Walk  up  and  down  with  measured  treadj 
And  seek  with  songs  to  hush  its  cries. 
Then  daylight  brought  its  tasks  to  me  % 
Ere  dawn  must  I  at  washing  be — 
Trudge  to  the  market — light  the  fire ; 
And  if  I  felt  the  trouble  tire 
On  one  day,  'twas  the  same  the  next. 
I  felt  dispirited  and  vext 
At  times ;  but  I  was  wrong  in  this  ; 
For,  after  all,  his  labour  is 
What  gives  a  poor  man's  food  its  zest, 
And  makes  his  bed  a  bed  of  rest. 

[They  pass  on. 


236  FAUST, 

Mar.  We  women  are  the  sufferers  :  who  can  make 
Any  thmg  of  a  dissokite  old  rake? 

Mcph.  Yet  have  I  perfect  faith  in  woman's  skill ; 
You  may,  for  instance,  make  me  what  you  will. 

Mar.  But  tell  me  plainly,  have  you  never  met 
One  whom  you  loved  ? — thought  you  of  marriage  yet  ? 

Meph.  A  blessed  state — in  Proverbs  we  are  told, 
A  good  wife  better  is  than  pearls  or  gold. 

Mar.  But  is  there  none  with  preference  you  would  name? 

Meph.  All  are  polite  and  everywhere  the  same. 

Mar.  Have  you  no  one  in  seriousness  addressed  ? 

Meph.  With  ladies  can  you  think  that  I  would  jest? 

Mar.  You  still  mistake  me. 

Meph.  I  regret  to  find 

How  slow  I  am ;  but  one  thing  to  my  mind 
Is  clear,  that  you  are  very,  very  kind.  \They  pass  o?l 

Faiist.  And  so  thou  didst,  my  angel— didst  thou  not  ? — 
The  moment  that  I  came  into  the  garden. 
Remember  me  again,  upon  the  spot  ? 

Mar.  Did  you  not  see  it } — I  held  down  my  eyes. 

Fausf.  And  thou  dost, — dost   thou   not  ? — the    freedom 
pardon 
Which,  as  you  passed  from  the  Cathedral  home, 
I  rashly  took  ? 

Marg.  I  felt  so  much  surprised, 

And  was,  I  scarce  can  tell  you,  so  confused, 
And  trembled  like  a  guilty  thing  accused. 


FA  UST.  237 

'^  Into  his  head  could  such  a  thought  have  come? — 
What  must  he  think  of  thee  ? — there  must  have  been 
Something  improper  in  thy  walk  or  mien  ; 
Something  that  gave  this  gentleman  to  see, 
Here  is  a  girl  with  whom  you  may  make  free." 
Yet  must  I  own  I  did  not  then  detect 
How  my  heart  pleaded  for  thee,  nor  suspect 
I  with  myself  was  angry,  that,  with  thee, 
As  angry,  as  I  ought,  I  could  not  be. 

Faust.  Sweet  love  ! 

Marg.  One  moment  wait. 

\She  plucks  a  siar-flowei',  and  picks  off  f he  leaves 
one  after  another. 

Faust.  Why  pluck  the  star-flower? 

—  Do  you  wish  a  bunch  of  flowers? 

Marg.  No,  I  just  fancied 

Trying  a  little  game  of  chance. 

Faust.  What  mean  you  ? 

Marg.  You  will  laugh  at  me. 

\Shc  plucks  off  the  leaves.,  and  murmurs  to  herself. 

Faust.  What  are  you  murmuring  ? 

Marg.  \lialf  aloud\  He  loves  me — loves  me  not. 

Faust.  Angelic  creature? 

Marg.  He  loves  me — not — He  loves  me — not — 

\_As  she  plucks  off  the  last  leaf  with  eager  delight. 
He  loves  me  ! 

Faust.  Yes,  my  child,  deem  tins  language  of  the  flower 


238  FAUST, 

The  answer  of  an  oracle — "  He  loves  thee  !" 

Dost  thou  know  all  the  meanmg  of  "  He  loves  thee  ?" 

\Holds  both  her  hands, 

Marg.  I  am  all  over  trembling. 

Faust  Tremble  not ! 

Oh,  let  this  look,  this  pressure  of  the  hands, 
Say,  to  thee,  what  no  words  can  say :  henceforth 
Be  our  whole  being  lost  in  one  another 
In  overflowing  joy — that  lives  and  lives 
For  ever  and  for  ever !  could  it  end. 

It  were but  no,  it  cannot,  cannot  end ! 

[Margaret  presses  his  hands ;  disengages  herself  from 
him^  and  rims  away.  He  stands  for  a  moment, 
thoughtful,  and  follows  her. 

Mar,  The  night  is  coming  on. 

Meph.  We  should  be  going. 

Mar.   I  would  invite  you  to  stay  longer,  but 
We  live  in  a  censorious  neighbourhood. 
They  seem  to  have  nothing  to  think  of  or  to  do 
But  watch  the  doors,  and  who  go  in  and  out : 
Do  what  you  will,  your  doings  will  be  misconstrued : 
But  our  young  couple — saw  you  them  ? 

Meph.  They've  flown 

Up  yonder  walk— gay  butterflies — 

Mar,  He  seems 

Caught. 

Mep/t,  And  she  too.     'Tis  the  way  of  the  world. 


FAUST.  239 


A  Summer  House. — Margaret  rtuis  in  :  fixes  herself  behind 
the  door ;  holds  the  tip  of  her  finger  to  her  lips^  ajid  peeps 
through  the  cradce. 

Marg.  He  comes. 

Faust.  Ah,  rogue  !  and  do  you  thus  j^rovoke  me  ? 

I've  caught  you  at  last.  \ICisses  her. 

Marg.  \embracing  him,  and  retiirnifig  the  kiss\    Dearest 
and  best,  with  my  whole  heart  I  love  thee. 

[Mephistopheles  hiocks. 

Faust  [stamping'].  Who's  there? 

Meph.  A  friend. 

Fatist.  A  brute. 

Meph.  Full  time  to  go. 

Afar,  [comes  up\   'Tis  late,  my  lord — 

Faust.  May  I  not  see  you  home  ? 

Marg.  My  mother  would farewell. 

Faust.  Must  I  then  go  ? — 

Farewell. 

Mar.       Adieu ! 

Marg.  To  meet  again,  and  soon. 

[Exeunt  Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 

Marg.  How  many  things  a  man  like  this 
Must  know; — and  I  had  but  a  ''Yes/' 
For  every  thing  he  said ; — confused 
By  every  word ;  yet  he  excused 


240  FAUST.   . 

Each  fault  of  mine.     Wliat  can  it  be^ 
That  thus  attaches  him  to  me. 


Forest  and  Cavern, 

Faust  \alone\.  Yes  !  lofty  Spirit,  thou  hast  given  me  all, 
All  that  I  asked  of  thee ;  and  not  in  vain, 
In  unconsuming  fire  revealed,  hast  thou 
Been  with  me,  manifesting  gloriously 
Thy  presence — thou  hast  looked  on  me  with  love, 
— Hast  given  me  empire  o'er  majestic  Nature; 
Power  to  enjoy  and  feel !     'Twas  not  alone 
The  stranger's  short  permitted  privilege 
Of  momentary  wonder  that  thou  gavest : 
No,  thou  hast  given  me  into  her  deep  breast 
As  into  a  friend's  secret  heart  to  look ; 
Hast  brought  to  me  the  tribes  of  living  things  : 
Thus  teaching  me  to  recognize  and  love 
My  brothers  in  still  grove,  or  air,  or  stream. 
And  when  in  the  wide  wood  the  tempest  raves, 
And  shrieks,  and  rends  the  giant  pines,  uproots, 
Disbranches,  and,  with  maddening  grasp  uplifting, 
Flings  them  to  earth,  and  from  the  hollow  hill 
Dull  moaning  thunders  echo  their  descent ; 
Then  dost  thou  lead  me  to  the  safe  retreat 
Of  some  low  cavern,  there  exhibiting 
To  my  awed  soul  its  own  mysterious  nature  I 


FAUST.  2\l 

Of  my  o\vr.  heart  the  depths  miraculous, 

Its  secret  inward  being  all  exposed  ! 

And  when  before  my  eye  the  pure  moon  walks 

High  over-head,  diffusing  a  soft  light, 

Then  from  the  rocks,  and  over  the  damp  wood, 

The  pale  bright  shadows  of  the  ancient  times 

Before  me  seem  to  move,  and  mitigate 

The  too  severe  delight  of  earnest  thought  !— 

Alas !  even  now  I  feel  Man's  joys  must  be 
Imperfect  ever.     The  ecstatic  bliss, 
Which  lifts  me  near  and  nearer  to  the  gods ; 
This  is  thy  gift ;  but  with  it  thou  hast  given. 
Inseparably  linked,  this  vile  associate, 
Whom  I  abominate,  but  cannot  part : — 
Cold,  insolent,  maUcious,  he  contrives 
To  make  me  to  myself  contemptible ; 
And  with  a  breath  will  scatter  into  nothing 
All  these  high  gifts  :  with  what  ofiicious  zeal 
He  fans  my  breast  into  a  raging  flame 
Of  passion,  to  possess  that  perfect  form 
Of  loveliness  !     Thus,  from  desire  I  pass 
On  to  enjoyment,  and,  uneasy  still, 
Even  in  enjoyment  languish  for  desire  ! 

[Meph [Stophef^es  c/ifcrs. 
Meplu  Have  you  not  had  enough  of  this  before? 
A  pretty  kind  of  life  to  live  for  ever ! 


242  FAUST. 

Well  enough  for  a  trial.     Come,  come,  let  us 
Seek  something  new. 

Fa7ist.  I  wish  you  had  something  else 

To  do  than  thus  torment  me  when  I'm  quiet. 

Meph.  Well !  well !  and  if  you  wish  I'll  leave  you  here 
To  your  delights — never  say  it  again. 
Great  loss  to  me,  indeed,  'twould  be  to  lose 
A  petulant,  unsocial,  crazy  creature 
Of  a  companion — kept  the  whole  day  long 
Busy,  and  never  can  make  any  guess 
From  my  lord's  countenance,  whether  yourVorship 
Is  pleased  or  is  displeased  by  what  I  do. 

Faust.  Ay,  there's  the  tone — that  is  so  very  like  him : 
Tires  me  to  death — expects  me  then  to  thank  him  ! 

Meph.  Poor  child  of  earth !  and  couldst  thou,  then,  have 
borne 
Thy  life  till  now  without  my  aid  ?     'Tvvas  I 
That  saved  thee  from  imaginations  idle ! 
I  guarded  thee  with  long  and  anxious  care ; 
And,  but  for  me,  even  now  thou  wouldst  have  been 
Idling  in  other  worlds  !     Why  sittest  thou  there, 
Lingering  in  hollow  cave,  or  rifted  rock. 
Dull  as  the  moping  owl  ?     Why,  like  the  toad. 
Dost  thou  support  a  useless  life,  deriving 
Subsistence  from  damp  moss  and  dripping  stone  ? 
Sweet  pastime  this  !  most  charming  occupation ! 
I  fear  you've  not  forgotten  your  old  trade. 


FAUST.  243 

Faust.  Couldst  thou  conceive  what  added  life  is  given 
In  hours  like  this,  passed  in  the  wilderness, 
And  couldst  thou  feel  it — still  thou  wouldst  remain 
The  devil  thou  art — still  hate  and  poison  it ! 
Wouldst  grudge  the  short  delight 

MepJu  Delight  indeed ! 

Yes,  transcendental  rapture  ! — mighty  fine  ! — 
In  night  and  dew  lying  among  the  hills. 
In  ecstasy  embracing  earth  and  heaven— 
To  swell  up  till  you  are  a  kind  of  god — 
To  pierce  into  the  marrow  of  the  earth 
In  a  fool's  fancies — all  the  six-days'  task 
Of  the  creation  in  thy  breast  to  feel — 
And  in  the  pride  of  conscious  power  enjoy 
I  know  not  what  of  bliss, — to  cherish  love 
That  has  no  limits,  but  must  overflow 
Till  it  loves  every  thing  that  is — till  earth 
And  man's  poor  nature,  in  the  trance  forgotten. 
Has  passed  away — and  then  the  glorious  hour 
Of  intuition  ending — how  it  ends 
I  must  not  say- 

Faust.  Fie,  fie  upon  thee. 

Meph.  -  Yes ! 

"  Fie,  fie !" — it  does  not  suit  your  taste,  forsooth — 
Fie,  fie !  this  mannerly  word  sounds  very  well 
In  your  mouth  now.     The  modest  ears  are  closed, 
And  will  not  hear  of  what  the  modest  heart 


244  FAUST. 

Yet  cannot  go  without.     Good,  good ! — a  word, 

However,  upon  what  you  said — I  grudge  not 

To  you  or  any  man  such  pleasure,  as 

He  now  and  then  may  feel,  in  playing  tricks 

Of  self-deception  ;  pity  'twill  not  last. 

You  are  already  blown  out  of  your  course — 

Are  almost  what  you  were  when  first  we  met ; 

And,  if  you  don't  take  care,  will  fret  yourself 

Soon  into  actual  madness — frenzy-fever. 

Or  melancholy  horror.     For  your  own  sake 

Have  done  with  this  :  your  love,  poor  creature !  sits 

Within  there, — you  should  soothe  her !     All  with  her 

Is  sad  and  gloomy — out  of  her  poor  mind 

You  never  are  :  she  loves  devotedly. 

Poor  thing  ! — on  thee  she  thinks — thinks  evermore. 

First  came  the  flood  of  thy  o'erflowing  passion. 

As  swells,  when  the  snows  melt,  a  mountain  brook 

Above  its  banks  —and  thou  into  her  heart 

Hast  poured  the  sudden  gush  ;  and  now  the  brook 

Is  dry  with  thee  again  :  methinks  'twere  well, 

Instead  of  reigning  here  among  the  woods 

On  an  imaginary  throne,  that  you 

Would  comfort  the  young  monkey,  and  requite 

The  poor  thing  for  her  love,— to  her  the  time 

Seems  miserably  long — she  lingers  at 

The  window,  gazes  on  the  clouds  that  pass 

Slow  o'er  the  old  town-walls.     ''  Oh  that  I  were 


FAUST.  245 

A  little  bird  !"  she  cries.     This  is  her  song 
All  the  day  long,  and  half  the  heavy  niglit  ! 
One  moment  is  she  mirthful — mostly  is 
Sad, — then  she  weeps  till  she  can  weep  no  more  ; 
Then,  as  'twould  seem,  she  is  at  rest  again. 
But  mirth  or  grief,  whatever  the  mood  be. 
This  all  is  love — deep,  tender,  passionate  love. 

Faust.  Serpent — vile  serpent  ! 

Meph.  \aside\  Ay,  and  one  that  stings 

FiUist.   Infamous   wretch,   begone  !   name   not   her 
name — 
Pollute  it  not— stir  not  into  desire 
My  half-distracted  senses. 

Meph.  What  is  this  ?— 

She  deems  herself  abandoned — and  is  right. 

Faust.  Off,  viper  ! 

Meph.  You  are  raving — I  am  laugliing : 

What  a  hard  task  it  is,  forsooth — ^just  think. 
And  let  it  cure  your  spirits, — you  are  going 
Not — as  to  look  at  you  one  might  believe- 
Not  to  the  gibbet — but  to  a  fond  mistress  ! 

Faust.  What  were  the  joys  of  Heaven,  thougti  with  them 
blest 
In  her  embrace  ? — could  my  disquiet  be 
Stilled  on  her  bosom  ?  could  it  hush  to  rest 
This  drear  presentiment  of  her  undoing  ? 
And  am  I  not  the  outcast — the  accurst — 


246  FAUST. 

The  homeless  one, — whose  wanderings  never  cease- 
The  monster  of  his  kind  ?     No  rest  for  me — 
No  aim — no  object;  like  the  stream,  that,  nurst 
With  swelling  rains,  foaming  from  rock  to  rock, 
Along  its  course  of  ruin. 
On  to  the  inevitable  precipice — 
Plunges  impatient  down  the  blind  abyss, 
And  violently  seeks  the  desperate  shock. 
And — by  the  side  of  such  mad  stream — was  she, 
— A  child  with  a  child's  feelings  ; — her  low  cot 
In  the  green  field  upon  the  mountain  slope, 
And  all  that  she  could  wish,  or  love^  or  hope, 
Her  little  world,  all — all  in  that  poor  spot ; — 
And  I — the  heaven-detested  ! — was  it  not 
Enough,  that  the  mad  torrent  grasped  and  tore 
The  rocks,  and  shivered  them  to  dust,  and  bore 
All,  that  opposed  me,  in  my  downward  course 
On  with  me  ? — Her,  too,  her — her  peace — her  joy  - 
These  must  I  undermine  ? — these  too  destroy  ? 
Hell !  hell ! — this  victim  also  ! — Thy  support, 
Devil !  and  the  dreadful  interval  make  short ! 
What  must  be,  be  it  soon  !     Let  the  crush  fall 
Down  on  me  of  her  ruin — perish  all — 
She — I — and  these  wild  thoughts  together  1 

Meph.  What !  in  the  fever-fit  again  ? 
How  seethes  and  burns  the  muddy  brain  ! 
— Idiot,  go  in,  and  comfort  hen 


FAUST.  ^  24'j 

Thus  is  it  ever  with  the  crazy  pate, 
When  difficulties  thwart, 
Or  unforeseen  <palamities  occur : 
Fools,  when  they  cannot  see  their  way, 
At  once  grow  desperate. 
Have  no  resource — have  nothing  to  propose — 
But  fix  a  dull  eye  of  dismay 
Upon  the  final  close. 
Success  to  the  stout  heart,  say  I, 
That  aees  its  fate,  and  can  defy  ! 
— Yet  art  thou,  though  of  such  soft  stuff, 
In  most  things  pretty  devil  enough  ; — 
Of  all  insipid  things,  I  least  can  bear 
That  sickening  dose — a  devil  in  despair ! 

Margaret's  Own  Room. 

Marg.  \alone  at  the  spin7iing-wheel\, 
\Sings^^ 
My  peace  is  gone, 

And  my  heart  is  sore  : 
I  have  lost  him,  and  lost  him, 
For  evermore  ! 

The  place,  where  he  is  not, 

To  me  is  the  tomb. 
The  world  is  sadness, 

And  sorrow  and  gloom  ! 


?.4.S  FAUST. 

My  poor  sick  brain 
Is  crazed  with  pain, 

And  my  poor  sick  heart 
Is  torn  in  twain  ! 

My  peace  is  gone, 
And  my  heart  is  sore, 

For  lost  is  my  love 
For  evermore  ! 

From  the  window  for  him 

My  heavy  eyes  roam  ; 
To  seek  him,  all  lonely 
J  I  wander  from  home. 

His  noble  form, 
His  bearing  high, 

The  smiles  of  his  lip, 

And  the  power  of  his  eye ; 

And  the  magic  tone 
Of  that  voice  of  his, 

His  hands'  soft  pressure, 
And  oh  !  his  kiss  ! 

My  peace  is  gone, 
And  my  heart  is  sore ; 

I  have  lost  him,  and  lost  him, 
For  evermore  ! 


FAUST,  ^49 


Far  wanders  my  heart 
To  feel  him  near, 

Oh  !  could  I  clasp  him, 
And  hold  him  here  ! 

Hold  him  and  kiss  hiir», 
Oh  !  I  could  die  ! 

To  feed  on  his  kisses^ 
How  willingly  ! 


I^.Iartha's  Garden. --Margaret — Faust. 

Marg. — Promise  me,  Heniy. 

Faust.  Be  assured,  my  love. 

Marg.  Now  tell  me  how  you  are  as  to  religion  ? 
You  are  a  dear  good  man — but,  I  rather  fear 
You  have  not  much  of  it. 

Faust.  Forbear,  my  child, 

You  feel  I  love  you,  and  for  those  I  love 
I  would  lay  down  my  life.     I  would  not  rob 
Any  one  of  his  feeling,  or  his  church — 

Marg.  'Tis  well — but  more  than  that — we  must  believe- 

Faust.  Must  we  ? 

Marg.  Oh,  had  I  any  influence  ! 

'—You  honour  not  the  holy  sacmments  ? 

Faust.  I  honour  them. 

Marg.  But  you  do  not  receive. — ' 


250  FAUST. 

At  mass  or  shrift  'tis  long  since  you  have  been. 
Do  you  believe  in  God  ? 

Faust.  Forbear,  my  love ; 

Who  can  say  truly,  ''  I  believe  in  God  ?" 
— Ask  it  of  priest  or  of  philosopher, 
And  the  reply  seems  but  a  mockery 
Of  him  who  asks. 

Marg.  Then  thou  dost  not  believe  ! 

Faust.  Misunderstand  me  not,  thou  best-beloved  : 
Who  can  name  Him,  and,  knowing  what  he  says, 
Say,  "  I  believe  in  Him  ?"     And  who  can  feel. 
And,  with  self-violence,  to  conscious  wrong 
Hardening  his  heart,  say,  "  I  beUeve  him  not !" 
The  All-embracing,  All-sustaining  One, 
Say,  doth  he  not  embrace,  sustain,  include 
Thee? — Me? — Himself? — Bends  not  the  sky  above? 
And  earth,  on  which  we  are,  is  it  not  firm  ? 
And  over  us  with  constant  kindly  smile, 
The  sleepless  stars  keep  everlasting  watch  ! 
Am  I  not  here  gazing  into  thine  eyes  ? 

And  does  not  All,  that  is., 

— Seen  and  unseen,  mysterious  all — 

Around  thee,  and  within, 

Untiring  agency, 

Press  on  thy  heart  and  mind  ? 
— Fill  thy  whole  heart  with  it — and  when  thou  art 
Lost  in  the  consciousness  of  happiness — 


FAUST.  25] 

Then  call  it  what  thou  wilt, 
Happiness  ! — heart ! — love  I — God  ! 
I  have  no  name  for  it — Feeling  is  all; 
Name,  sound  and  smoke, 
Dimming  the  glow  of  heaven ! 

Marg.  This  is  all  good  and  right ; 
The  priest  says  pretty  much  the  same, 
But  in  words  somewhat  different. 

Faust.  Every  where, 

All  hearts  beneath  the  universal  Heaven, 
In  its  own  language  each  doth  utter  it — 
Then  why  not  I  in  mine  ? 

Marg.  Made  easy  thus 

'Tis  plausible— yet  must  it  be  unsafe : 
Thou  art  no  Christian. 

Faust.  Hush,  my  child. 

Marg.  I  grieve  to  see  the  company  thou  keepest. 

Faust.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Marg.  The  man  whom  thou  hast  ever  at  thy  side, 
I  hate  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul. 
In  my  whole  life,  has  nothing  given  my  heart 
So  deep  a  wound,  as  that  man's  alien  visage. 

Faust.  Beloved,  fear  him  not. 

Marg.  The  very  sight  of  him  makes  my  blood  thrill ! 
To  most  men  I  feel  kindliness — but  him 
Do  I  detest  \  and  with  a  feeling  strong, 
Strong  as  my  love  for  you— strong  as  my  wishes 


25- 


FA  UST. 


To  have  you  with  me — does  a  secret  shudder 
Creep  over  me  when  I  behold  this  man. 
He  is — I  cannot  be  deceived — he  is 
A  villain ; — God  forgive  me,  if  I  wrong  him  ! 

Faust.  He's  a  queer  fellow — do  not  mind  his  oddities. 

Marg.    I   would   not — could   not,   live   together  with 
him. 
If  for  a  moment  he  comes  to  the  door, 
He  will  look  in  with  such  an  air  of  mockery, 
And  a  half  scowl,  and  a  face  dark  with  anger 
Kept  down — you  see  he  has  no  interest 
In  any  thing — 'tis  written  on  his  brow 
He  feels  no  love  for  any  livmg  soul—- 
And  when  I  am  so  happy  in  thy  arms, 
In  the  sweet  confidence  of  love  forgetting — 
Forgetting  every  thing  but  thee,  then— then 
He's  sure  to  come,  and  my  heart  shrinks  and  withers ! 

Faust  Foreboding  angel,  these  are  weak  misgivings ! 

Marg.  The  feeling  overmasters  me  so  wholly. 
That  if  he  does  but  join  us,  straightway  seems  it 
As  if  I  ceased  to  love  thee — where  he  is 
I  could  not  pray.     This  eats  into  my  heart. 
Henry,  it  cannot  be  but  that  you  feel 
In  this  as  I  do. 

Faicsf.  Tliis  is  antipathy. 

Marg.  I  must  away. 

Faust.  Alas  !  and  may  I  never 


FAUST.  253 

Meet  thee,  where  none  can  come  to  trouble  us? 
One  little  hour — and  must  it  never  be  ? — 
Heart  prest  to  happy  heart,  and  soul  to  soul ! 

Marg.  Ah,  that  I  slept  alone  !     This  very  night 
How  gladly  would  I  leave  the  door  unbolted ! 
But  then  my  mother's  sleep  is  far  from  sound ; 
Did  she  awake  and  find  you  there,  I  should, 
Methinks,  drop  dead  upon  the  spot. 

Faust.  Dear  angel,  throw  aside  such  fears ;  this  phial 
Take  with  you.     Three  drops  of  it  only,  poured 
Into  her  drink,  wrap  nature  up  in  sleep, 
Deep  tranquil  sleep. 

Marg.  I  must  do  as  you  bid. 

Could  I  refuse  you  ?— 'Twill  not  injure  her? 

Faust.  It  will  not :  otherwise  would  I  advise  it  ? 

Marg.  Dearly  beloved,  if  I  but  look  on  you 
I  must  obey — I  cannot  hesitate  : 
There  is  a  something  not  to  be  resisted, 
Which  overpowers  me — makes  your  will  my  guide 
In  everything ;  and  having  gone  so  far 
Already,  is  choice  left  me  ?     Having  given 
So  much,  what  is  there  for  me  to  refuse  ? 

Meph.  \cnters\  The  monkey  !  is  it  gone  ? 

Faust.  Again 

Spying  ?— 

Meph.         Yes,  and  I  heard  quite  plain 
The  doctor  schooled, — the  catechumen 


254 


FAUST. 


Getting  a  lesson  in  his  creed, 

And  catechism,  from  a  young  woman, 

Just  now; — I  hope  that  it  agreed 

With  you  !     The  girl's  anxiety 

For  sentimental  piety 

Is  soon  explained.     The  man,  think  they, 

Who  worships  in  the  good  old  way, 

When  his  priest  bids  him  kneels  and  bowSj 

Is  likely  to  obey  his  spouse  : 

This  of  itself  ensures  his  wife 

A  quiet,  fair  and  easy  life. 

The  women  fancy,  and  the  fact  is 

Confirmed,  or  often  so,  in  practice, 

That  their  admirers  are  most  found 

Where  your  religious  men  abound — 

Love  is  almost  the  same  emotion  : 

The  devotee — such  is  their  notion — 

Thus  for  the  sex  feels  true  devotion, 

Courts  amorous  thoughts  and  mystic  dreaming, 

Is  led  by  priests,  and  follows  women. 

Faust.  Oh  !  what  a  monster  must  thou  be. 
To  see  not,  or  with  scoffing  see. 
How  this  poor  girl's  affections  lead 
The  pious  creature  thus  to  plead ; 
The  faith,  in  which  she  moves  and  lives — 
That  which  alone  salvation  gives — 
So  she  believes — may  make  her  fear 


FAUST,  255 

Danger  to  one  whom  she  holds  dear ; 

Fear  for  the  issue  of  a  strife 

Where  more,  she  feels,  is  risked  than  life  \ 

Meph.  Most  sentimental  sensualist, 
— Philosopher  at  once  and  beast, — • 
Led  by  the  nose  by  a  young  flirt ! 

Faust.  Abortion — spawn  of  fire  and  dirt ! 

Meph.  \_scor7if2iUy\—0\\  Physiognomy  she  also  lectures 
Profoundly — feels,  when  I  am  present. 
Sensations  strange  and  most  unpleasant : 
— Suppressed  malignity  my  smile  betrays  ; 
I  wear  a  mask,  forsooth,  I  will  not  raise, 
And  what  it  hides  she  sapiently  conjectures, 
Something  mysteriously  allied  to  evil, 
A  genius — or,  perhaps,  the  very  devil. 
To-night  then. 

Faust.  What's  to-night  to  thee  ? 

Meph,  I've  my  amusements  too— we'll  see^ 


At  the  Well. — Margaret  ^;2// Lizzy  [with  pitchers\ 

Lizzy.  Have  you  not  heard  of  Hannah's  pretty  doing  ? 

Marg.  No,  not  a  word — Pve  been  but  little  out. 

Liz.  Kate  told  it  me  to-day— there's  not  a  doubt 
Of  its  truth.     This  comes  of  airs  and  impudence, 
I  always  said  her  pride  would  be  her  ruin. 


256  FAUST, 

Man.  What  mean  you  ? 

Liz.  What  I  mean  all  know  but  yen — - 

Why,  when  she  eats  and  dnnks  she's  feeding  two, 

Marg.  Poor  thing  ! 

Liz.  Poor  thing,  indeed  !  great  pity  for  her  ; 

Why,  she  was  always  finding  some  pretence 
To  be  in  company  with  this  adorer 
Of  hers ; — at  every  party — every  walk — 
How  she  made  out  a  time  for  private  talk ! 
Would  hang  upon  his  arm,  and  still  be  seen 
For  evermore  with  him,  at  booth  or  green. 
She  thought  herself  so  fine,  none  could  come  near  her  ; 
And   then   their   feaslings — cakes    and    vv^ine   must   cheer 

her 
After  their  rambles  :  then  her  vanity 
About  her  beauty  almost  like  insanity— 
And  then  her  meanness — think  of  her  insisting 
Upon  his  making  handsome  presents  to  lier — 
Then  came  soft  words,  v/hen  there  were  none  to  listen^ 
Then  all  a  girl  can  give  she  gave  her  wooer  ! 

Marg,  The  poor,  poor  thing ! 

Liz.  And  do  you  pity  her  ? 

When  we  were  kept  close  to  our  v/heels,  and  when 
Our  mothers  v/ould  not  suffer  us  to  stir 
Abroad  at  night,  or  loiter  with  the  men^ 
Then  were  they  on  the  seat  before  the  door, 
Or  in  the  dark  walk  lingering  evermore ; 


FAUST,  257 

Now  for  the  stool  .and  vv'hite  sheet  of  repentance ; 
For  one,  I  feel  no  sorrow  at  her  sentence. 

Marg.  Poor  creature  !  but,  no  doubt,  he'll  marry  her. 

Liz.  He  ! — he'll  be  no  such  fool— the  de'il  may  carry 
her, 
For  what  he  cares— they  say  that  he  is  off; 
He'll  find  another  market  soon  enough. 

Ma?'g.  That  is  not  fair. 

Liz.  'Twill  be  almost  as  bad, 

We  will  so  plague  her — if  she  get  the  lad  ; — 
The  wedding  garland,  should  she  think  to  wear  it, 
From  the  mock  virgin  shall  the  cliildren  tear  it ; 
And,  at  her  door,  what  fun  we  shall  have,  spreading 
Chopped  straw,  to  greet  the  promise  of  their  wedding. 

[ExiL 

Marg.  \returning  home].   How  I  would  rail  when  some 
poor  girl  went  wrong  ! 
How,  when  it  was  another's  sin  and  shame, 
Words  of  reproach  would  rise  up  to  my  tongue  ! 
It  was,  it  was  black — oh  how  black,  and  I 
Blackened  it  more  and  more — no  words  of  blame 
This  virtuous  scorn  of  mine  could  satisfy — 
Others  might  fall,  but  I  more  proud  became — 
I  blessed  myself,  and  held  myself  so  high, 
And  I  who  thus  could  feel — am  I  the  same  ? 
But  could  I — who  could — have  resisted  here  ? 
All  was  so  good  !  all  was  so  very  dear  ! 

X 


258  FAUST, 

ZwiNGER. — A  Little  Shrine. 

In  a  niche  of  the  wall  a7i  image  of  the  Mater  Dolorosa, 
with  fioivers  before  it, — Margaret  places  fresh  flowers 
ifi  the  bowls. 

Marg.  Mother  benign, 

Look  down  on  me ! 
No  grief  like  thine ; 
Thou  who  dost  see 
In  his  death-agony 
Thy  Son  divine. 

In  faith  unto  the  Father  dost  thou  Hft  up  thine  eyes ; 

In  faith  unto  the  Father  dost  pray  with  many  sighs. 

The  sword  is  piercing  thine  own  soul,  and  thou  in  pain  dost 

pray, 
That  the  pangs  which  torture  him,  and  are  thy  pangs,  may 

pass  away. 

And  who  my  wound  can  heal 
And  who  the  pain  can  feel, 
That  rends  asunder  brain  and  bone  ? 
How  my  poor  heart,  within  me  aching, 
Trembles  and  yearns,  and  is  forsaken — 
Thou  knowest  it — thou  alone  ! 

Where  can  I  go  ?     Where  can  I  go  ? 
Every  where  woe  !  woe  !  woe  ! 


FAUST.  259 

Nothing  that  does  not  my  own  grief  betoken  ; 

And  when  I  am  alone, 

I  moan,  and  moan,  and  moan, 

And  am  heart-broken. 

The  flowers  upon  my  window  sill, 
Wet  with  my  tears  since  dawn  they  be  ; 
All  else  were  sleeping,  while  I  was  weeping, 
Praying  and  choosing  flowers  for  thee. 

Into  my  chamber  brightly 
Came  the  early  sun's  good-morrow ; 
On  my  restless  bed,  unsightly, 
I  sate  up  in  my  sorrow. 

Oh,  in  this  hour  of  death,  and  the  near  grave. 
Succour  me,  thou,  and  save  ! 
Look  on  me  with  that  countenance  benign. 
Never  was  grief  like  thine, — 
Look  down,  look  down  on  mine '. 

Night. — Street  before  Margaret's  door. 

Valentine  \a  soldier — Madge's  hrother\ 

Till  now,  as  round  the  canteen  hearth, 
My  comrades,  in  their  drunken  mirth, 
Would  of  their  favourites  gaily  boast, 
And  pledge  with  soldier's  glee  the  toast  \ 

T  2 


26o  FAUST. 

How  on  my  elbow  I  would  rest, 

Smile  as  each  swore  bis  own  the  best, 

And  stroke  my  beard,  and  raise  my  glass. 

And  when  my  turn  to  name  the  lass 

Came  round,  would  say,  "  Each  to  his  tasts  | 

In  my  own  home  my  heart  is  placed. 

Where  is  the  maiden,  any  wliere, 

That  with  my  Margaret  can  compare  ? 

Is  there  than  Madge's  in  the  land 

A  truer  heart  or  fairer  hand  ?" 

Oh,  then,  how  cups  and  goblets  rang, 

While  voices  rose  with  joyous  clang  : 

*'  Right,  right,"  in  chorus,  hundreds  cried, 

'^  First  of  them  all— the  country's  pride — 

His  sister  is" — and  dumb  and  tame 

The  boasters  suddenly  became. 

And  now — oh,  I  could  rend  my  hair, 

Could  dash  my  brains  out  in  despair  y— 

Now  must  I  feel  my  bosom  gored 

By  daggers  in  each  casual  word, 

And  every  ruffian's  sneering  eye 

And  scornful  taunt  my  patience  try  ; 

Gnawing  my  wrath  must  I  remain, 

And  suffer  and  suppress  my  pain, 

Nor  dare  say  any  word  again ; 

As  hears  the  debtor  gibe  and  curse, 

Who  meets  a  claim  with  empty  purse. 


FAUST, 

Avenge  it — what  can  vengeance  do  ? 
Must  I  not  feel  the  taunt  is  true  ? 

See  yonder  !  sneaking  out  of  sight, 
Two  skulking  scoundrels. — Am  1  right  ? 
— 'Tis  he — would  Heaven  that  it  were  he  — 
He  scarce  shall  'scape  me  if  it  be. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

Faust.  See,  in  the  window  of  yon  sacristy, 
How  from  its  little  lamp  the  constant  hght 
Streams  up — while,  at  the  sides,  less  and  less  bright, 
'Tis  fading— till  it  dies  in  the  thick  night 
That  deepens  round— and  thus  it  is  v/ith  me — ' 
Darkness  on  every  side  around  me  spreads. 

MepJh  And  I  am  like  the  thievish  cat  that  treads. 
Prowling  along,  up  ladders  and  down  leads— 
A  nibble  in  the  dark — there's  no  harm  in  it — 
Or  snatching  on  the  roof  a  stolen  love-minute. 
Already  do  I  feel  the  power, 
The  fun  and  frolic  of  the  hour  ', 
The  advent  of  Walpurgis  Night 
Bids  every  limb  thrill  with  delight : 
Another  night — another  day^ 
And  then  the  glorious  First  of  May  j 
Then  to  the  Brocken  fare  we  forth, 
Then  learn  that  life  is  something  worth. 


262  FAUST. 

Faust.  Behold  yon  blue  light  glimmering  ! 
Is  that  the  treasure  ?     Lurks  it  there  ? 
And  will  it  from  the  dark  earth  spring  ? 

Meph.  Be  patient — you  shall  shortly  bring 
The  casket  into  open  air  : 
I  peeped  into  the  secret  hoard. 
And  saw  the  lion-dollars  stored. 

Faust.  What !  merely  money  ?  who  would  think  it  ? 
What  good  is  this  ?  no  ring—  no  trinket  ? 
No  ornament  for  the  dear  girl  ? 

Meph.  Oh  yes  j  there  are  some  beads  of  pearL 

Faust.  I  am  glad  of  it, — it  is  not  pleasant 
To  go  to  her  without  some  present. 

Meph.  Is  there  then  no  such  thing  as  plea-surej, 
But  what  you  may  by  payment  measure  ? 
I  differ  there  with  you— but  see, 
The  heaven  is  hushed,  and  full  of  stars  i 
Now  for  a  moment  favour  me 
With  silence — while  I  sing  some  bara 
Of  an  old  song — a  sweet  old  air, 
Touched  with  true  skill — a  moral  song 
That  lures  the  heart  and  will  along. 

\Sings  to  the  guitar^ 
Why,  Catherine,  stay 
At  dawn  of  day, 
At  dawning  gray, 
Before  the  younker's  door  J 


FAUST.  263 

The  merry  blade 
Lets  in  the  maid, 
That  out  a  maid 
Never  departeth  more ! 
Beware — beware, 
And  guard,  ye  fair, 
Your  hearts  with  care. 
Poor  things,  beware  of  men — 
Oh,  listen  not  to  any  thing 
They  may  say,  or  swear,  or  sing, 
Till  on  the  finger  is  the  ring — 
Beware,  say  I  again. 
Val.  \comes  forivard\  What  brings  ye  here?  whom  com.e 
ye  to  destroy. 
Cursed  rat-catchers  ? — to  the  devil  with  the  lure — 
To  the  devil  with  the  scoundrels. 

Meph.  Well  done,  boy, 

The  poor  guitar  is  cracked  beyond  all  cure, 
Val.  Now  for  his  skull. 

Meph.  Now^  Doctor,  now's  your  tiine. 

Courage — stick  close — that's  a  brave  fellow : 
Have  at  him — ^just  do  as  I  tell  you — 
Out  with  your  duster — thrust  away — 
I'll  parry. 

Val.  Parry  that. 

Meph.  Child's  play  ! 

Easily  done. 


264  FAUST. 

Val.  And  that. 

Meph.  As  easy  quite. 

Val.  The  devil  assists  him  in  the  fight — 
My  hand  is  wounded. 

Meph.  Now  thrust  home. 

Val.  Oh,  torture  ! 

Meph.  The  clown's  done  for — come, 

We'd  best  be  off— have  not  a  minute 
To  lose — already  is  the  cry 
Of  murder  raised — and  although  I 
Know  the  police,  and  have  friends  in  it, 
This  is  a  very  ugly  scrape. 
To  manage  it  in  any  shape 
Perplexes  me. 

Mar.  \at  the  windoiv\  Up  ! — Up  !— - 

Marg.  \at  her  windoiii\.  •   A  light ! 

Mar.  Railing  and  scuffling — how  they  fight  ! 

People,  [in  the  street].  One  of  them  is  already  dead. 

Mar.  Seize  on  the  murderers — are  they  fled  ? 

Marg.  \coming  cut\  "Who  is  it  ? — Vv-ho  ? 

People  Thy  mother's  son. 

Marg.  Oh  God  ! 

Val.  I  die — said  soon — soon  done ! 
Women,  why  stand  you  wailing,  cr3'ing  ? 
Will  you  not  listen  ?     I  am  dying. 
Margaret,  take  counsel,  you  are  still 
Young,  and  conduct  your  business  ill; 


FAUST,  365 

I  speak  in  confidence — you  are 
A  strumpet — throw  away  pretence — 
l")e  one  in  earnest — there  were  sense 
In  this — be  one  thing  or  the  other. 

Marg.  My  God  !  what  can  you  mean,  my  brother? 

Val.  Best  let  the  name  of  God  alone  ! 
That  which  is  done,  alas  !  is  done. 
The  past  is  past — the  wretched  game 
You  play  is  everywhere  the  same, 
Begins  in  folly — ends  in  shame. 
First  one  man  visits—then,  less  private, 

Another ;  soon  the  coy  beginner 
Will  welcome  all,  till  she  arrive  at 

The  streets,  and  is  a  common  sinner. 

When  Shame  is  born,  she  shrinks  from  sight, 
Draws  over  her  the  veil  of  night, 
Trembles  at  every  stir,  and  tries 
Of  hood  and  cloak  the  mean  disguise, 
Yea — unfamiliar  yet  with  sin — 
Would  hush  the  warning  voice  within. 
On  moves  she  unobserved,  unknown ; 
But  bigger  soon,  and  bolder  grown. 
Walks,  hand  in  hand,  the  broad  highway, 
With  Slander,  in  the  eye  of  day, 
And  as  her  features,  marred  and  coarse, 
From  hour  to  hour  look  worse  and  worse, 


266  FAUST. 

While  men  behold  her  with  affright, 
She  stalks  affronting  the  daylight. 

Already  do  I  see  the  day, 
When  all,  with  loathing,  turn  away 
From  thee,  as  from  a  plague-struck  corse, 
I  see  the  gnawings  of  remorse  : 
— Abandoned  outcast  of  the  street, 
How  wilt  thou  bear  their  eyes  to  meet  ? 
Never,  as  once,  the  golden  chain 
To  wear  in  pride — never  again  ! 
Never  again,  that  fairest  face, 
To  shine  at  church,  in  the  high  place, 
And  never  more  the  dance  to  grace ; — - 
No  more  in  modest  pride  to  deck 
With  frills  of  snowy  lace  thy  neck ; 
But  in  some  filthy  nook  to  lie, 
'Mong  strumpets  live — 'mong  beggars  die; 
And  find,  for  thee,  heart-broken  one. 
Though  God  has  mercy,  Man  has  none. 

Mar.  Pray,  dying  man,  for  mercy ;  dread 
To  heap  God's  curses  on  thy  head  ! 

Val,  Fiend,  could  I  tear  thy  leprous  skin  ! 
Procuress  !  sordid  slave  of  sin  ! 
Then  might  I  rest,  my  conscience  freed 
From  every  weight  by  that  one  deed. 


FAUST,  267 


Marg.  My  brother — oh,  what  agony — 
Brother,  forgive — I  grieve  for  thee. 

Val.  Cease  weeping  thus  for  me  :  thy  fall-— 
That  was  the  sharpest  wound  of  all. 
Fearless  I  go — as  fits  the  brave — 
To  God  and  to  a  soldier's  grave. 


Cathedral. — Service. — Organ  a?td  Anthem, 

Margaret  mnong  a  number  of  people. — Evil  Spirit 
behind  Margaret. 

Evil  Spirit  How  changed  is  everything 
With  thee,  poor  Margaret, 
Since  when,  still  full  of  innocence, 
Thou  to  this  very  altar 

Didst  come,  and  from  the  little  old  thumbed  prayer- 
book 
Didst  lisp  the  murmured  prayers  ; 
Half  with  ilie  children  out  at  play. 
In  a  child's  happy  fancies,  thy  young  heart, 
And  half  with  God  in  heaven. 

And  dost  thou,  canst  thou  think  ?  .  .  , 

Thy  brain,  where  wanders  it  ?  .  .  . 

In  thy  heart  oh  what  a  weight 

Of  guilt,  of  evil  done  ! 


26S  FAUST. 

Prayest  thou  for  thy  mother's  soul — 

She  who  through  thee  did  sleep  and  sleep  av/ay 

Into  undying  agonies  ? 

And  on  thy  door-stead  whose  the  blood  ? 

And  in  thy  bosom  is  there  not 

A  stirring,  that  is  torture, 

And  with  foreboding  fears 

Makes  felt  the  present  woe  ? 
Marg.  Woe,  woe! 

Oh  that  I  could  escape 

These  dark  thoughts  flitting  over  and  athwart  me. 
And  all  accusing  me ! 

Choir.  Dies  Ir^,  Dies  illa 

SOLVET   S^CLUM    IN    FAVILLA. 

Evil  Spirit.  The  judgment  arrests  thee— 

The  trumpet  is  sounding— 

The  graves  are  astir — 

And  thy  heart, 

From  the  sleep  of  its  ashes, 

For  fiery  torture 

Created  again, 

Awakes  up  and  trembles, 
Marg.  That  I  were  out  of  this — 
I  feel  as  if  the  organ 
Stifled  my  breathing, 
And  that  the  anthem  was 
Breaking  my  heart. 


FAUST.  269 

C/ioir.  Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 
quidquid  latet  adparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 
Marg.  I  feel  so  tightened  here, 
The  pillars  of  the  wall 
Are  grasping  me ; 
The  arch  above 
Weighs  on  me, — x\ir  ! 
Evil  Spirit.  Hide  thyself — sin  and  shame 
Will  find  thee  out— 
O,  never  were  they  hidden — 
Air — light — exposure- 
Woe's  thee ! 
Choir,  Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus, 
QUEM  patronum  rogaturus, 
Cum  vix  justus  sit  securus. 
E%nl  Spirit.  From  thee  their  countenances 
The  sons  of  light  all  turn. 
To  reach  to  thee  their  hands 
Makes  the  pure  shudder — 
Woe  ! 
Choir.  Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus. 
Marg.  \faintingy  to  the  girl  next  her].  Your  flasket,  friend. 


270  FAUST. 

Walpurgis  Night. — Hartz  Mountains, 
Shirke  and  Elend. 

Faust—Mephistopheles. 

Meph.  Would  not  a  broomstick  be  a  good  thing  here 
For  a  tired  man  to  ride  ?     I  wish  I  had  got 
A  buck-goat,  rough  and  tough — neck  thick,  trot  quic'c ; 
The  road  is  long,  and  we  are  loitering, 
The  time  just  come — the  place  still  far  away. 

Faust.  While  I  feel  firm  upon  my  limbs,  the  road 
Thus  wild  and  intricate  but  pleases  me  j 
And  this  knobbed  staff  affords  .support  enough. 
Why  should  we  wish  the  way  more  short  ?     To  steal 
Silently  through  the  deep  vale's  labyrinth. 
And  issuing  thence  to  climb  these  rocks,  from  which 
The  bubbling  water  gushes  up  for  ever, 
And  streams  a  white  precipitous  cataract — 
'Tis  this — 'tis  this  that  makes  such  paths  delightful. 
The  stirring  breath  of  spring  hath  waked  the  birch. 
And  the  slow  pine  already  feels  her  power — 
Shall  we  alone  of  all  that  live  and  breathe 
Remain  uninfluenced  by  her  cheering  spirit  ? 

Meph.  I  can  feel  nothing  of  it — all  within 
With  me  is  winter — give  me  the  bleak  snow, 
And  the  cold  ice  upon  my  desolate  path. 


23* 

FAUST. 


With  what  a  red  and  melancholy  light 

The  waning  moon's  ..perfect  orb.. ov.g, 

casting  faint,  cold,  unsetviceaWe  beam 
A„d  making  each  step  dangerous-lsU. 
Dash -gai-t  some  stragghng  tree  or  ,umn 
nicaUawildhreWUl-o'-tlre-Wisptohghtus. 

See  there  is  one  burns  bright  and  merrdy. 
?K:freaUishsparMooM-.e«mgsawa 
On  the  regardless  night  hrsspendthrrftsplen 

Holla,  my  friend,  come  join  our  co-pany, 

come,  come,  instead  of  wastmgrdly  there, 

Come  be  the  pilot  of  our  perilous  way, 

Wm-o^-the-Wisp.  Yours  most  respectiu  y 

serve  you ;  ^     •     ^ 

But  it  is  struggling  against  nature-devous 

^^/''•«-^^'-'^^^':;;*iVsname,gostraight-- 

^"--^'-^rrr^Ublow  thee  out, 
On,  saucy  spark,  on— or 

Pnnr  ^leam  of  marsh-light  hfe. 

Poor  gleam  o       ^  ^^.^       .^  ^^  ^^^ 

Will-o' 'the- Wisp' 
•That  the  master  of  the  house  is  here-my  lord, 

I  will  be  all  I  can  be,  to  oblige  you,- 
BrthinU,  the  hill  to-day  is  mad  wuhmagr, 
r.ifweshouldnotgothestraightestroad, 
limber  that  your  gmde  is  but  a  meteor. 


272  FAUST. 

Faust,  Mephistopheles,  Meteor  {alternately^ 

Song. 

Into  the  magic  world,  the  centre 

Of  fancies  strange  and  dreamy  science, 

By  a  meteor  led^  we  enter. 

His  wild  light  our  best  reliance. 

Then,  Meteor,  guide  us  on  in  haste, 

Through  regions  lonely,  wide,  and  waste. 

Woods — how  swift  they  vanish  by  us  ! 
Trees  on  trees — how  fast  they  fly  us ! 
And  the  cliffs,  with  antic  greeting, 
Bending  forward  and  retreating, 
How  they  mock  the  midnight  meeting ; 
Ghastly  rocks  grin  glaring  on  us, 
Panting,  blowing,  as  they  shun  us  ! 

Trickling  on,  through  sward  and  stone, 
Rill  and  rivulet  run  down — 
Murmuring  and  rustling  near. 
Voices  meet  and  mock  the  ear  \ 
Sweet  sounds  greet  us  from  above  : 
Are  they — are  they  words  of  love  ? 
Tender  tones,  that  from  the  wild  wood 
Whisper  back  the  days  of  childhood  ? 
All  that  was,  when  we  were  young, 


FAUST.  273 


Eden  to  the  heart,  now  meets  it; 
And  the  rock,  with  airy  tongue. 
Recalls,  restores,  the  enchanted  song, 
And  lingering  in  love  -repeats  it. 
How  the  song  of  echo  chimes 
Like  the  voice  of  other  times  ! 

Tu-whoo ! — Tu-whoo  !— the  owl's  in  view 
Nearer,  clearer,  comes  his  hooting — 
Through  the  dusk  air  see  him  shooting  — 
The  long-horned  owl,  with  pinions  gray, 
The  blind  bat  born  in  circles  dizzy, 
The  crow — the  lapwing — and  the  jay, 
Are  wakeful  all — all  out  and  busy — 
See  lizards  in  the  green  twigs  tender, 
With  heavy  paunch  and  long  legs  slender 
Every  where  strange  sights  we  see- 
Are  they  what  they  seem  to  be  ? — 
Here's  many  a  twining  plant  that  flings 
Round  rock  and  root  its  serpent  strings^ 
And  seeks  to  dart,  in  eager  watch 
The  heedless  journeyer's  foot  to  catchj 
From  close-compacted  living  masses 
Its  angry  fangs  on  each  who  passes ; 
Every  where  around  us  playing, 
Many-coloured  mice  are  straying, 
Numberless,  'mong  moss  and  heather ; 


2  74  FAUST, 

And  the  fire-flies  crowd  together, 

With  buzzing  motion,  swarming,  crushing, 

Round  our  meteor  leader  rushing  ! 

We  be  strangers  here  who  stray, 
Natives  of  the  hills  are  they, 
Gleesome  creatures  bright  and  gay, 
Merry  guides  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! — 
Wild  the  escort — wild  the  way  ! 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  where  we  are — 
We  have  wandered  fast  and  far- 
Is  our  wizard  journey  ended  ? 
Is  the  Brocken  yet  ascended  ? 
E.ound  us  every  thing  seems  wheeling, 
Trees  are  whirling,  rocks  are  reeling — 
All  in  rapid  circles  spinning. 
With  motion  dizzying  and  dinning, 
Every  thing  that  round  us  races 
Makes  grotesque  and  fiendish  faces; 
Swelling,  puffing,  multiplying, 
On  all  sides  wild-fire  lights  are  flying. 

Meph.  Come,  be  alive — so  far,  so  well  i 
We're  at  the  half-way  pinnacle. — 
The  worst  is  over  now — catch  fast 
My  mantle,  while  we  turn  and  cast 
A  glance  beneath  us  on  the  mines 
Where  Mammon  in  the  mountains  shines  \ 


FAUST,  275 

Faust.  What  a  strange  glimmer 'stains  the  ground, 
Like  the  dull  heavy  clouds  around 
The  east,  ere  yet  the  sun  ascends : 
Far  down  the  dusky  hue  extends, 
For  leagues  below  earth's  surface  spread, 
A  gloomy — thick — discoloured  red, 
Tinging  the  dreary  sides  of  this 
'Desperate,  hope-deadening  precipice — 
Here  rises  smoke,  there  vaporous  whiteness, 
But  yonder  what  a  blaze  of  brightness 
On  every  object  round  is  gleaming ! — 
Now  in  a  narrow  thread  ^tis  streaming, 
And  now  the  illuminating  current 
Bursts  sparkling  like  a  winter  torrent, 
Here,  round  the  vale,  you  see  it  wind, 
In  long  veins  delicate  and  slender. 
And  there  in  bondage  strict  confined, 
It  brightens  into  burning  splendour  ! 
A  thousand  sparks,  like  gold-dust,  sprinkling 
The  waste  air,  are  before  us  twinkling. 
And  see  the  tall  rock  kindling,  brightening, 
Glows  with  intensity  of  lightning — 
Turret, — 'twould  seem — and  fence  and  spire 
Lit  up  at  once  with  festal  fire. 

Meph.  Well,  is  not  Mammon's  princely  hall 
Lit  gaily  for  our  festival ! 
I'm  glad  you've  seen  it — the  wild  night 


2-jG  FAUST. 

Bodes  storm,  that  soon  will  hide  it  quite— 
Already  is  it  swept  from  sight — 
Wild  work  is  on  the  winds — I  see  already 
Omens  that  say  the  boisterous  guests  are  coming. 

Faust.  The  angry  gale  blows  insolently  upon  us  ! 
How  keen  and  cold  upon  my  neck  it  falls, 
Like  strokes  of  some  sharp  weapon. 

Meph.  Firmly  seize 

The  old  projections  of  the  ribbed  rock — 
Else  it  will  blow  you  down  into  the  chasm 
Yawning  below  us  like  a  sepulchre. 

Clouds  frown  heavily,  and  hearken 
How  the  wood  groans  as  they  darken. 
And  the  owls,  in  fear  and  fright 
At  the  stormy  face  of  night, 
Beat  the  air  in  homeward  flight ; 
The  halls  of  evergreen  are  shaking, 
And  their  thousand  pillars  breaking, 
Hearken  how  the  tempest  wrenches 
Groaning  trunks  and  crashing  branches, 
And  the  earth  beneath  is  rifted, 
And  the  shrieking  trees  uplifted — 
Bole,  and  bough,  and  blossom  cheerful, 
Fair  trees  fall  in  ruin  fearful ; 
— How  the  haughty  forest  brothers 
Bend  and  tremble ! — how  they  fall ! 


FAUST.  2^7 

V 

How  they  cling  on  one  another's 
Arms  ! — each  crushes  each  and  smothers, 
Till,  tangled,  strangled,  down  come  all; 
And  the  wild  Winds  through  the  ruin 
Are  howling,  hissing,  and  hallooing ! 
Down  the  valleys  how  they  sweep, 
Round  and  round,  above  and  under, 
Rend  the  giant  cHfts  asunder, 
And,  witn  shout  and  scream  appalling, 
Catch  the  mighty  fragments  falling  ! 
How  they  laugh,  and  how  they  leap. 
As  they  hurry  off  their  plunder  ! 
Headlong  steep,  and  gorges  deep, 
Gulf,  and  glen,  and  rock,  in  wonder, 
Echo  back  the  stormy  thunder  ! 

List  ! — I  thought  I  heard  a  ringing 

In  my  ear  of  voices  singing- 
Above — around  us — faint,  now  clearer, 
Distant  now — now  warbling  nearer — 
Now,  all  the  haunted  hill  along, 
Streams  the  maddening,  magic  song  ! 

Witches  in  CJiorus.  On  to  the  Brockcn  the  witches  are 
flocking — 

Merry  meet — merry  part — how  they  gallop  and  drive, 
Yellow  stubble  and  stalk  are  rocking, 

And  young  green  corn  is  merry  alive. 
With  the  shapes  and  shadows  swimming  by, 


278  FAUST. 

To  the  highest  heights  they  fly, 
Where  Sir  Urian  sits  on  high — 
Throughout  and  about, 
With  clamour  and  shout, 
Drives  the  maddening  rout, 
Over  stock,  over  stone  ; 
Shriek,  laughter,  and  moan, 
Before  them  are  blown. 

A  Voice.  Before  the  rest — beyond  the  best — 
Who  to  lead  the  group  is  fitter  ? 
In  savage  pride  see  Baubo  ride 
On  her  sow  about  to  litter. 

Chorus.  Baubo — honour  to  whom  honour- 
Benediction  be  upon  her — 
Forward,  mother  ! — as  we  speed  us. 
Who  so  fit  as  thou  to  lead  us  ! 
Forward — clear  the  way  before  us  ! 
Then  follow  we  in  screaming  chorus  ! 

A  Voice.  Whence  came  you  ? 

A  Voice.  Over  Ilsenstein — 

As  I  past  I  peeped  into  a  nest, 
And  the  night-owl,  scared  from  her  stupid  rest. 
Fixed  her  frightened  eyes  on  mine  ! 

A  Voice.  O  go  to  the  devil — why  drive  you  so  fast? 

A  Voice.  She  grazed  my  side  as  she  hurried  past, 
And  the  skin  is  sore  and  the  blast  is  chill : 
Look  there — see  where — 'tis  bleeding  still. 


FA  UST. 


279 


Chorus  of  Witches.  The  way  is  long,  and  weary,  and  wide — 
And  the  madman  throng  crowds  on  every  side — 
The  pitchforks  scratch,  and  the  broomsticks  scrape, 
Will  the  child  within  escape, 
When  the  mother,  crashed  to  death, 
Suffocating  pants  for  breath  ? 

Wizards  and  Warlocks.  \Semichorus  i .]  like  the  lazy  snail, 
we  linger  and  trail : 
Our  woman-kind,  as  fleet  as  the  wind. 
Have  left  us  far  and  far  behind — 
On  a  road  like  this  men  droop  and  drivel, 
While  woman  goes  fearless  and  fast  to  the  devil. 

Wizards  a?id  Warlocks.  [^Seinichorus  2.]  Swift  they  go,  and 
swift  they  go, 
And  gain  a  thousand  steps  or  so, 
J3ut  slow  is  swift,  and  swift  is  slow. 
Woman  will  bustle,  and  woman  will  justle. 
But  yet  at  the  end  will  lose  the  day, 
For  hurry  and  hurry  a§  best  she  may, 
Man  at  one  long  bound  clears  the  way. 

Voices  from  above.    Come  with  us — come  with  us  from 
Felsen-see, 
From  the  lake  of  rocks  to  the  eagle  height 
Of  the  hills — come  with  us — to-night — to-night ! 

Voices  from  below.  To  wander  above,  is  the  thing  we  love. 
Oh  for  one  hour  of  this  one  night ! 
For  one  mad  dance  on  the  Brocken  height ! 


28o  FAUST. 

"When  shall  we  join  in  the  wild  delight  ? 

We  have  washed,  and  v/ashed,  and  washed  us  white 

Again  and  again — we  are  barren  quite — 

But  our  hearts  are  aglow,  our  cheeks  are  bright — 

We  have  watched  a-left — we  have  watched  a-right. 

And  we  hear  the  sound  of  the  far-off  flight 

As  they  hurry  away,  and  are  swept  from  sight. 

T/ie  Tzuo  Choruses.  That  wind  that  scattered  the  clouds  is 
dead, 
And  they  thicken  soon  o'er  the  wandering  moon : 
She  hides  her  head — and  the  stars  are  fled ; —     . 
With  a  whispering,  whistling,  drizzling  sound, 
x\nd  a  fall  of  meteor  fires  around- 
Onward,  onward,  hurry,  skurry, 
The  hell-driven  rout  of  wizards  hurry. 

Voice  from  heloiu.  Stop — stop  — stop. 

Voice  from  above.  What  voice  is  this 

Calls  to  us  from  the  abyss  ? 
Seems  it  that  the  words  jast  spoken 
From  the  crannied  rock  have  broken  ? 

Voice  from  below.  Stop — stop — stop — for  me — for  mc— 
Guarded  and  bound  with  slant  rocks  round — 
Stop — stop — stop— and  make  me  free — 
Three  hundred  years  moiling,  three  hundred  years  toiling, 
Hurry  work — weary  work — step  after  step  ; — 
I  grasp  and  I  grope,  and  in  time  I  have  hope 
To  climb  to  tlie  top — sisters,  stop — sisters,  stop — 


FAUST.  2S1 

I  anoint  every  joint,  and  I  pray  my  own  prayer, 
In  the  May-sabbath  night,  to  the  Prince  of  the  air. — 
Are  you  not  my  kindred  ? — and  why  am  I  hind'red 
From  mixing  among  you,  and  meeting  him  there  ? 

Both  Choruses.  Brooms  fly  fast  v/hen  warlocks  ride  'cm 

Rams,  with  those  who  know  to  guide  'em ; 

Broken  branches  gallop  lightly ; 

Pitchforks,  too,  make  coursers  sprightly. 
A  buck-goat  or  boar  is  as  good  as  the  best  of  them  ? 
Each  man  for  himself,  and  who  cares  for  the  rest  of  them  ? 

Many  an  egg-shell  air-balloon, 

To-night  will  land  at  our  saloon ; 

He  who  fails  in  his  endeavour 

To  join  us  now,  is  gone  for  ever. 
Half-  Witch  from  below.  Far  away  I  hear  their  laughter, 
Hopelessly  I  stumble  after ; 
Cannot  rest  at  home  in  quiet — 
Here  I  cannot  join  the  riot. 

Witches  in   Chorus.    Strength  is  given  us  by  this  oiiit- 
ment — 
We  will  keep  to-night's  appointment — 
We  can  speed  on  sea,  no  matter 
Were  the  sail  a  cobweb  tatter ; 
And  a  plank  as  weak  and  thin  as 
Snail's  abandoned  shell  our  pinnace. 
He  who  cannot  fly  to-night. 
Will  never  soar  a  wizard's  fliglit. 


282  FAUST. 

Both  Choruses.    And  when  we've  reached  the  topmost 
bound, 
Like  swallows  skim  the  haunted  ground  \ 
Far  and  wide  upon  the  heath, 
Spread  your  circling  guard  beneath ; 
Watch  and  ward  'gainst  treachery, 
With  all  the  hosts  of  witchery. 

Meph.  The  air  is  heavy  and  oppressive, 
And  the  whirling  din  excessive ; 
Rattling  with  the  ceaseless  babble, 
Of  the  tumultuous  hell-driven  rabble  3 
Sultry,  vaporous,  and  sickening ; 
To  a  denser  substance  thickening, 
Burning  noisomely,  and  glittering 
With  fiery  sparks  for  ever  frittering, 
Poisoning  every  thing  it  reaches. 
Atmosphere  for  fiends  and  witches. 
But  cling  more  close  to  me,  or  we  will  lose 
Each  other  soon — where  art  thou  ? 

Faust  \_from  a  great  distance\.  Here  I  am  \ 

Meph.  What,  lost  already — torn  away  so  far — 
Then  must  I  show  that  I  am  master  here ! 
Make  way,  good  people,  for  my  young  friend  yonder  : — 
Room  for  young  Voland — room,  sweet  people,  room. 
Here,  Doctor,  cling  to  me,  and  with  one  spring 
We'll  rid  ourselves  of  the  whole  set  at  once. 
They  are  too  bad — this  raving  is  too  much 


FAUST.  285 

Even  for  me. — Look  yonder  at  the  blaze 
Of  brightness — a  distinct  and  steady  flame  ! 
How  different  from  all  the  brimstone  torches 
And  wildfire  lights  that  madden  round  the  hill, — 
It  tempts  me  to  explore  that  distant  copse — 
Come  let  us  steal  away  from  this  wild  crowd. 

Faust.  Spirit  of  Contradiction — well,  lead  on ! 
I  cannot  but  admire  the  bright  idea 
Of  wandering  to  the  Brocken  in  May-night, 
To  enjoy,  forsooth,  the  charms  of  solitude. 

Meph.  See,  see  the  lights  !  how  cheerily  they  burn ! 
There  seems  to  be  a  merry  set  assembled, 
A  little  party  met  of  choice  gay  spirits. 

Faust.  Yet  would  I  rather  be  above — see  !  see  ! 
Where  through  the  whirls  of  smoke  bursts  the  red  light, 
And  glows  and  triumphs— in  what  hurrying  waves 
Numbers  on  numbers  evermore  increasing, 
The    thickening    throng    streams    onward  —  still  —  still 

onward — 
All  under  the  resistless  fascination^ 
All  to  the  worship  of  the  evil  One — 
The  clue  to  many  a  puzzling  mystery 
May  be  found  here — to-night  will  be  unravelled 
Many  a  strange  riddle. 

Meph.  And  strange  riddles,  too, 

May  be  proposed  to-night,  and  not  unravelled — 
But  leave  we  the  great  world  and  its  distractions. 


284  FAUST, 

While  we  enjoy  our  quiet  corner  here! 

'Tis  quite  estabHshed  that,  in  all  large  parties. 

The  guests  divide  in  small  and  scattered  circles— 

See  the  young  witches  all  are  naked  there, 

And  all  the  old  ones  with  coy  bashfulness, 

Veiling  their  timid  charms — come,  come,  look  pleasant, 

If  it  were  only  to  oblige  a  friend — 

'Tis  not  much  trouble,  and  we'll  have  rare  sport. 

I  hear  the  music — curse  upon  their  scraping  !— 

But  'twill  sound  better  when  we're  used  to  it. 

Come,  come,  I  must  insist  upon  your  coming — 

Come — I  must  introduce  my  honoured  friend. 

Well  nov/,  what  think  you  ?     Is  not  this  a  long 

And  splendid  room  ?    You  scarce  can  see  the  end  \ 

A  line  of  fires — at  least  a  hundred,  shine 

Brilliantly  :  what  a  scene  of  gaiety 

Of  all  kinds — chatting,  dancing^  drinking  here  — 

Cooking,  and  making  love — can  any  thing 

In  the  world  be  pleasanter  ? 

Faust.  In  what  character 

Are  we  to  know  you — devil,  or  conjuror  ? 

Meph.  I  travel,  usually,  incognito; 
.  But  upon  gala  days  the  great   display 
Their  stars  and  orders. — I've  no  need  to  sport 
A  garter— for  the  horse's  foot  is  here 
In  high  repute. — ^See  you  that  sHding  snail  ? 
Eye — smell— touch — all  gathered  up  into  one  ? 


FAUST,  2S5 

Hither  she  creeps — her  trembling  feelers  out  — 
Instinctively  she  knows  that  I  am  here, 
And  touching — smelling — eyeing,  on  prowls  she, 
Crowding  herself  together — wide  awake — 
Out  of  her  frozen  sleep  suddenly  roused. 
Even  if  I  wished  disguise,  it  here  would  be 
A  thing  impossible — come,  come  with  me. 
Forward  from  fire  we  saunter  on  to  fire  : 
Play  you  the  lover  where  I  introduce  you. 

\As  they  pass  o?i,  Mephistopheles  allrcsjcs  a  parly 
siitmg  round  a  few  dying  emb  67' s'.\ 
Old  gentleman,  pray,  how  do  you  get  on 
In  the  corner  here  ?     Why — sure  you  ought  to  be 
Alive,  and  flirting  in  some  merry  circle. 
See,  where  the  gay  young  girls  are  giggling,  yonder, — 
If   you    are    thus    dull,   you    might    have    stayed    at 
home. 

General.  Who  may  trust  a  people's  favour, 
Though  he  fight  for  them  for  ever  ? 
To  nations,  as  to  girls  ungrateful. 
The  young  are  dear,  the  old  are  hateful. 

Ex-Mi7iister.  Little  now  to  prize  or  praise  ; 
—  Give  me  back  the  good  old  days, 
When  kings  and  courts  obeyed  our  call, 
And  ourselves  were  all  in  all. 

Parvenu.  I  was  one  of  Fortune's  pupils, 
Disregarded  doubts  and  scruples ; 


286  FAUST. 

Thus  her  golden  gifts  I  found ; 
Then,  alas  !  the  wheel  turned  round. 

Author.  How  public  taste  declines  ! — they  never 
Read  works  that  once  were  counted  clever; 
— And  then  the  critics — all  invidious — 
Pert,  prating,  ignorant,  fastidious  ! 

Meph.  [zvho  has  suddenly  assumed  the  appearance  of  extreme 
old  age\.  I  feel  the  world  is  waning  into  age  ; 
All  things  are  ripening  fast  for  the  last  day. 
With  feeble,  tottering  feet,  for  the  last  time, 
I've  climbed  the  witches'  hill — the  wine  of  life 
Is  low  with  me — and  therefore  'tis  that  I, 
An  old  man,  think  the  world  is  on  the  lees. 

Huckster-  Witch.  Who'll  buy  ?  who'll  buy  ?— great  bargains, 
going  ! 
Rare  things  here  to  tempt  the  knowing  I— 
Stop  and  see  them  ! — my  collection 
Well  deserves  minute  inspection. 
Such  variety,  in  vain 
Would  you  hope  to  meet  again, 
Of  the  curious  articles, 
Which  your  own  old  woman  sells  % 
Rare  and  precious  !  every  one 
Hath  on  earth  its  business  done. 
Will  you  have  the  dagger  knife, 

That  hath  drained  a  brother's  life  ?  -    . 

Or  the  cup  that  held  a  draughty 


FAUST,  2?.'J 

Which  was  death  for  him  that  quaffed? 

— This  was  from  a  royal  feast, 

And  a  queen  had  drugged  the  bowl; 

— This  a  chaHce,  and  the  priest, 

—  On  him  a  confiding  soul 

Looked  for  comfort — poured  in  it 

Venom  of  the  aconite  : 

Here  are  trinkets — chain  and  gem — 

Young  man,  you  should  purchase  them— - 

Pearls,  with  which  the  wealthy  donor 

Won  vain  woman  to  dishonour. 

Poor  things  !  poor  things  ! — the  best  and  kindest 

Fall  soonest,  for  their  heart  is  bHndest, 

And  feels,  and  loves^  and  does  not  reason — 

And  they  are  lost — poor  things  !  poor  things  ! 

— Here  are  swords,  the  gift  of  kings, 

That  have  done  the  work  of  treason ; 

Or  pierced,  some  coward  hand  directing, 

The  sleeping  or  the  unsuspecting. 

Meph.  Old  lady,  you  mistake  the  times  we  live  in — 
Every  one's  heart  to  novelty  is  given : 
Throw  out  your  box  of  relics — such  antiques 
As  these  no  creature  fancies  now  or  seeks. 
The  past  is  dead  and  gone — the  present  passion 
Is  novelty — this  trash  is  out  of  fashion. 

Faust.  Scarce  know  I  v/ho  I  am  or  where — 
They  crowd  and  rush  as  at  a  fair. 


2  88  FAUST. 

Meph.  Forward  the  whirling  crowd  is  striving, 
All  driven  along  the  stream  and  driving, 
All  rushing  on  in  one  direction, 
And  each  enjoying  the  reflection 
That  he  to-night  is  his  own  sovereign, 
That  his  own  thoughts  his  movements  govern. 
Unconscious  that  the  same  broad  river 
Bears  down  its  wave  each  self-deceiver, 

Faust.  Who's  that  ? 

Meph.  Her  features  closely  scan— 

'Tis  the  first  wife  of  the  first  man. 

Faust.  Who,  say  you  ? 

Meph.  Adam's  first  wife,  Lilith. 

Beware — beware  of  her  bright  hair, 
And  the  strange  dress  that  glitters  there : 
Many  a  young  man  she  beguileth. 
Smiles  winningly  on  youthful  faces. 
But  woe  to  him  whom  she  embraces  ! 

Faust  [lookmg  at  a?iother  group\    The  old  grey  witch- 
how  she  squats  down — poor  devil  ! 
Panting   for    breath — half   dead — fainting    and    floun- 
dering— 
And  the  young  vixen  with  her  finds  the  revel 
Rather  too  much  for  her—  she,  too,  is  foundering. 

Meph.  Nonsense,  the  fun  will  ne'er  be  over. 
Advance,  my  friend,  and  play  the  lover. 
Look,  man,  the  girl's  well  worth  the  winning — 


FAUST.  289 

Come,  join  the  dances  just  beginning. 

[Faust  rt;/^  Mephistopheles  take  parsers. 

Faust  [daficing  with  the  young  witch].    'Twas  my  fortune 
once  to  see 
In  a  dream  an  apple-tree  ; 
Rosy  apples — one,  two,  three — 
With  a  glad  smile  tempted  me ; 
And  to-night  again  I  seem. 
In  the  trance  of  that  sweet  dream, 
Lovely  is  the  tree  I  wis, 
And  the  apple  pleasant  is. 

Bis  Fa?'f.  Dear  little  apples — ay !  their  price 
Was  more  than  gold  in  paradise — 
And  pleasant  to  the  sight  and  touch 
I  come  from  gardens  rich  in  such. 

Meph.  \ivith  the  old  witcJi\.    I  had   a   troubled   dream, 
and  it 
Was  haggard  as  a  night-mare  fit. 
I  saw  an  old  tree  torn  and  split, 
And  yet  it  pleased  me,  I  admit. 

His  Part.  With  lowest  courtesy  I  salute 
The  gay  knight  of  the  Horse's  Foot ; 
The  tree  of  knowledge,  trunk  and  root, 
Is  his — and  his  must  be  the  fruit. 

Pi'octophaiitasmist.  Cursed  devils — how  they  murder 
All  attempts  at  keeping  order  : 
All  in  vain  it  is  to  prove 


290  FAUST. 

To  Spirits  by  what  laws  they  move  : — 
Mocking  at  all  regulation, 
Ridiculing  demonstration, 
See  them  onward  still  advancing, 
Ghosts  !  like  men  and  women  dancing. 

Fausfs  Part.  Who's  this  presumes  to  interfere  ? 
What  means  the  forward  fellow  here  ? 

Fcmst.  What — he  ? — why  he  is  everywhere — 
He  never  dances — but  he  guides 
Opinion — disapproves — decides — 
On  carriage  and  the  true  division 
Of  time  gives  laws  with  calm  precision. 
While  others  dajice  he  criticizes^ 
And  all  is  perfect  that  he  prizes  ; 
And  what  he  does  not  prate  about 
Is  but  of  small  account,  no  doubt ; 
Nay,  such  his  wondrous  powers  of  seeing, 
What  he  beholds  not  has  no  being ; 
Our  careless  grouping  must  perplex  him, 
But  dancing  forward's  sure  to  vex  him. 
The  only  figures  he  approves 
Are  where  the  set  in  circles  moves, 
Still  turning  his  own  humdrum  round 
Within  the  same  contracted  bound, 
Holding,  at  times,  grave  consultation, 
Listening  to  him  with  veneration, 


FAUST.  291 


As  he  with  magisterial  rigour 
Commands  a  change  of  tune  and  figure. 

Proc.  Still  here  !  defying  me  !  this  rabble 
Of  rude  ghosts  ! — 'tis  intolerable  ! 
What !  restlessly  still  thronging  hither  ? 
Vanish  from  my  sight — fade — wither — 
How  can  men  say  that  spectres  haunt  'em  ? 
— The  mind^  does  it  not  make  the  phantom  ? 
Who  and  what  are  they  ? — mere  relations 
That  we  may  see  or  not  at  pleasure — 
And  here  they  come  and — grant  me  patience— 
Mix  in  the  dance — converse  at  leisure. 
I  thought,  that,  by  my  labours  brightened, 
The  world  for  this  was  too  enlightened. 
These  devils— they  rise,  and  in  derision 
Of  all  I  say,  still  cross  my  vision. 
What — beings,  that  have  no  existence, 
To  mock  each  law  of  time  and  distance  \ 
Why,  after  this,  the  Tegel  ghost 
May  grin  again  at  his  old  post, 
I  thought  I'd  swept  away  these  fancies 
Of  plays,  and  poems,  and  romances  ! 
Still  here  !  with  all  the  noise  of  Babel, 
These  dreams  of  a  forgotten  fable  ! 

Fausfs  Part.  Silence,  silence,  old  intruder  ! 

Ptqc^  What!  the  ghosts  are  growing  ruder-- 


K  2 


292  FAUST. 

How  they  beard  me,  in  defiance 

Of  every  inference  of  science  ! 

Fiends,  I  tell  you  to  your  facer;, 

I  will  make  you  know  your  places ! 

What !  in  public  thus  to  fool  us ! 

A  mob  of  ghosts,  forsooth,  to  rule  us  !    \The  dancing  goes  on. 

To-night — why  this  is  Goblin-hall, 

Spirits  and  spectres  all  in  all. 

My  comments — what  are  they? — the  cavils, 

Of  a  sour  cynic  on  his  travels, 

A  passing  stranger's  jealous  spite. 

— But  Time  will  set  the  matter  right, 

Good  sense  assert  its  proper  power. 

Dethrone  the  tyrant  of  the  hour. 

And  take  revenge  on  my  tormentors, 

Goblins^  and  ghosts^  and  ghost-inventors  ! 

Meph.  He'll  throw  himself  into  a  puddle  : 
There  will  he,  stupefying,  muddle. 
Till  leeches,  clinging  to  his  body, 
Are  weary  of  their  banquet  bloody: 
For  spirits  sinking — spirits  rising 
The  one  cure  is  phlebotomizing; 
Delusions  vanish  soon — the  leech 
Diseases  of  the  head  can  reach 
And  cure  them — biting  on  the  breech. — 
Blue  devils  fade  fast,  and,  disappearing, 
Smile  on  the  sage  with  aspect  cheering. 


FAUST,  293 

The  brain  will  thus  correct  and  clear  its 
Vague  whims,  and  vexing  thoughts  of  spirits. 
— Why  have  you  quitted  thus  already 
Your  sweet  and  captivating  lady, 
Who  sang  so  lovingly  and  well, 
And  danced  so 

Faust,  W'hy,  I  fear  to  tell ; 

But  from  her  mouth,  while  she  was  singing, 
I  saw  a  little  red  mouse  springing. 

Mcph.  Why  start  at  trifles,  my  good  fellow? 
'Tis  well  it  was  not  grey  or  yellow. 
Wliat  can  these  dull  suspicions  profit? 
The  mouse — why  make  a  mountain  of  it? 
A  pretty  sort  of  reason  this  is 
To  fly  a  loving  lady's  kisses. 

Faust.  And  then  I  saw 

Meph,  What? 

Faust,  Look,  Mephisto,  there, 

See  you  far  off,  and  shadow-like,  a  fair 
Pale  form — a  lovely  girl — almost  a  child — 
Standing  alone— with  sweet  eyes,  sad  and  mild  ? 
She  looks  on  us — she  moves — she  leaves  the  place  — 
Her  feet  are  bound— she  slides  with  mournful  pace. 
I  cannot  from  my  heart  dispel  the  wild, 
Strange  thought,  that  her's  is  my  own  Margaret's  face. 

AFeph.  Repel  that  thought ;  'tis  but  an  idle  trick 
Of  heated  fancy,  and  the  form  you  see 


5  94  FAUST, 

Is  nothing  but  a  magic  mockery. 

To  gaze  on  it  most  dangerous  may  be. 

Charmed  by  its  marble  stare,  the  blood  grows  thick 

And  hardens  into  marble ;  but  ere  now 

You  must  have  heard  of  pale  Medusa's  brow. 

Faust.  Ah,  no  !  a  corpse's  eyes  are  those 
Whose  lids  no  loving  fingers  close. 
'Tis  she — -that  form — that  face — that  breast 
So  often  to  my  bosom  prest. 

Meph.  Fool !  'tis  delusion  !  every  lover 
Would  there  his  charmer's  looks  discover. 

Faust.  What   mirth   is  here — and,   oh  !    what  grief — my 
glance 
Still — still  returns  to  that  pale  countenance ; 
And  see  around  her  neck  a  slender  chain, 
That  stripes  the  snowy  skin  with  crimson  stain  : 
Scarce  broader  than  a  knife's  thin  edge  it  gleams— 
A  strangely  chosen  ornament  it  seems, 

Meph.  Yes,  you  are  right ;  for  I  can  see  it  too. 
—  But  think  no  more  of  it  than  others  do. 
Be  not  surprised,  if  you  should  see  her  carry 
Her  head  under  her  arm — 'twere  like  enough ; 
For  since  the  day  that  Perseus  cut  it  off. 
Such  things  are  not  at  all  extraordinary. 
But  see,  all  others  here  are  pleasant ; 
Cease  moping,  and  enjoy  the  present ; 
All  around  the  hill  is  merriment— 


FAUST, 

Try  thou  the  same  experiment. 
Never  did  crowded  capital 
A  gayer  throng  together  call ; 
And  if  my  senses  do  not  err, 
Yonder's  an  open  theatre. 
—  Well,  what's  your  business  ? 

Servibilis.  We  are  just  beginning — 
'Tis  a  new  piece — the  last  of  seven — seven  is 
The  customary  number  here — 'twas  written 
By  a  young  amateur  of  fancy — the  actors 
Are  dilettanti  all — your  pardon,  gentlemen, 
But  I  must  vanish — I'm  an  amateur 
Myself — and  for  this  one  night  draw  the  curtain, 

Meph,  Blocksberg  for  ever ! — not  a  player 
On  earth  but  merits  to  be  there  ! 


WALPURGIS  NIGHT'S  DREAM; 

OR, 

The  Golden  Bridal  of  Oberon  and  Titania. 
An   Interlude. 

Ma?iager.  To-day  our  trouble  is  but  small. 
No  need  of  nice  machinery; 
A  valley  moist  and  hill  are  all 
The  necessary  scenery. 


295 


296  FAUST, 

Herald.  'Mong  mortals  with  the  fiftieth  year 
Of  wedlock  comes  the  Golden  Feast — 
A  happier  feast  of  gold  is  here 
Commemorating  discord  ceast. 

Oheron.  Subject  spirits,  crowd  the  scene, 
Celebrate,  with  exultation. 
The  union  of  your  king  and  queen, 
This  happy  reconciliation. 

Puck.  Here  comes  Puck — you'll  always  find  me 
Circling  in  the  merry  dance. 
And  a  hundred  more  behind  me 
Twinkling  joyous  feet  advance. 

Ariel.  Sweet,  heavenly  sweet  is  Ariel's  song. 
What  a  crowd  of  hideous  features 
The  music  wins,  and  what  a  throng 
Follows  me  of  lovely  creatures  ! 

Oheron.  Men  and  wives  who  would  agree, 
We  invite  your  imitation  ; 
The  only  certain  recipe 

For  dying  love  is  separation. 

Titan ia.  If  wife  be  cross^  and  husband  fuming, 
To  make  them  know  each  other's  worth, 
To  the  South  Pole  take  the  woman, 
And  her  husband  to  the  North. 


PAUST.  297 

The  Whole  Orchestra.  Insect  swarms,  in  murmuring  flight, 
Our  musicians  of  the  night, 
Fly,  and  gnat,  and  bee,  and  beetle, 
Ply  mouth,  nose,  and  winglet  little. 
Crickets,  chirping,  'mong  the  bushes. 
And  hoarse  frogs  croaking  from  the  rushes. 

Solo.  Hear  the  drowsy  bagpipe  groan, 

The  bag's  a  soap-blown  bubble  airy. 
And  grumbling  through  the  winding  drone 
Come  sullen  sounds  extraordinary. 

Embryo  Spirit.  Spider's  foot  and  lizard's  belly, 
And  winglets  for  the  embryo ! 
The  animated  lump  of  jelly 

Writes  verses  of  the  smoothest  flow. 

Partners  dancing.  Little  steps — light,  springy  leaps 

Through  honey-dew  and  field-flowers  fragrant ; 
How  pleasant,  but  that  something  keeps 
From  fields  of  air  the  willing  vagrant ! 

Inquisitive  Traveller.  A  thousand  figures  here  burlesque 
A  masquerade's  wild  gaiety, 
And  mingling  with  the  groups  grotesque, 
See  Oberon  the  little  deity. 

Orthodox  Divine.  What !  without  claws — without  a  tail ! 
Yet  all  whose  thoudits  are  sober  on 


298  FAUST. 

Such  serious  subjects  know  too  well 
The  "  Gods  of  Greece  "  and  Oberon. 

Artist  fi'om  the  North.   As  yet  my  works  are  sketches 
merely, 
Though  you'll  admit  done  prettily, 
But  I've  made  my  arrangements  nearly 
For  travelling  in  Italy. 

Fojinalist.  What  sinful,  riotous  excesses  ! 

Fool  that  I  was  to  join  the  crowd  here- 
Such  shockingly  indecent  dresses ! 

And  but  a  witch  in  two  wears  powder ! 

Young  Witch.  Keep  powder,  patch,  and  petticoat 

For  grey-haired  hags — skins  smeared  and  sooty- 
While  I  sit  fearless  on  my  goat 
In  the  free  pride  of  naked  beauty. 

Matron.  For  scolding  we've  too  much  politeness — 
Sneers  like  this  are  best  forgotten. 
Rosy  cheek,  and  soft  neck's  whiteness, 
May  they  soon  be  coarse  and  rotten  ! 

Leader  of  the  Band.  Insect-harpers,  as  you  wander 
Round  the  hall  in  many  a  ringlet, 
Spare  the  naked  beauty  yonder 

Wound  of  sting,  or  touch  of  winglet. 


FA  UST.  299 

Grasshoppers  from  the  green  bushes, 

Brown  frogs  croaking  from  the  rushes, 

Brave  musicians  for  the  night,  ' 

Watch  that  the  tune  and  time  go  right. 

Weathercock   \_poi71ting  in   one  direction\     Well,  what  a 
brilliant  company ! 
The  girls  how  fair  and  unaffected  ! 
And  not  a  man  but  seems  to  be 
For  beauty  from  mankind  selected  1 


Weatherc.  \_poi71ting  in  the  opposite  direction\   What  devils 
all !  unless  the  ground 
Should  cleave  asunder  to  receive  them. 


I'll  fly  from  this  place,  with  one  bound, 
To  hell,  or  any  where,  to  leave  'em. 

Xenien.  Small  as  insects,  here  we  bring 

Our  little  shears ;  the  crops  we  gather 
Will  be  a  grateful  offering 

To  Satan,  our  liege  lord  and  father ! 

Hennings.  What  merry  groups  are  crov/ding  there  ! 
Up  to  every  frolic  started ; 
And  when  they're  gone — I  won't  say  where — 
We  call  them  foolish,  but  good-hearted. 

Mtisaget.  Oh  happy,  happy  bard  !  whom  chance 
To  such  a  circle  introduces. 


300  FAUST. 

With  these  I'd  rather  lead  the  dance 
Than  be  Apollo  with  the  muses. 

Genius  of  the  Old  Times.  Come,  follow  me  through  smooth 
and  rough  : 
Cling  close — there's  little  need  of  ceremony. 
On  Blocksberg  we'll  find  room  enough, 
The  wide  Parnassus  'tis  of  Germany. 

Inquisitive   Traveller.    What's   yonder  pompous  fellow's 
name  ? 
With  long  and  solemn  strides  he's  pacing, 
And,  like  a  dog  that  snuffs  the  game, 
The  Jesuits,  methinks,  he's  tracing. 

Crane.  I  seek  my  prey  in  waters  clear, 
I  seek  it  in  the  troubled  rivers ; 
This  scene  is  my  delight,  for  here 
Are  devils  mixed  with  true  believers. 

Worldling.  For  true  believers  every  thing 

Works  good  in  all  ways  unexpected  ; 
With  hymns  the  Blocksberg  rocks  shall  ring. 
From  many  a  convent  here  erected. 

Dancer.  Is  this  another  company. 

With  trumpets  sounding — banners  glittering  ? 
No ;  'tis  the  boreal  lights  I  see  : 

From  marshes  hear  the  booming  bittern. 


FAUST.  301 

Z>aJici??g-m aster.  Devils — how  they  fling  and  jump — 
Through  the  figure  flounce  and  scufile ; 
Spite  of  wooden  leg  and  hump, 
How  they  caper,  cut,  and  shufiie ! 

Fiddler.  Hatred  in  every  heart  !  the  tone 

Of  Orpheus'  lyre,  with  charm  celestial, 
Soothed  brutes  ;  to-night  the  bagpipe's  drone 
Tames  into  peace  the  blind  and  bestial  ! 

Dog7natist.  Well,  I'll  maintain  it — spite  of  sneer, 
Or  argument,  or  gibe  uncivil — 
I  see  a  thousand  devils  here, 

Which  proves  the  being  of  a  devil. 

Idealist.  Imagination's  power  to-night 

For  my  sensorium  too  intense  is ; 
If  I  be  all  that  meets  my  sight, 
Then  surely  I  have  lost  my  senses. 

Realist.  Reality  ...  is  torturing  me  ; 

I'm  wearied  with  this  scene  of  wonder; 

The  ground — it  seems  the  ground  to  be — 

Gives  way  my  tottering  feet  from  under. 

Suternaturalist.  Here,  for  my  system,  as  I  rove, 
Delighted  I  derive  assistance  ; 
If  there  be  devils,  it  m.ust  prove 
Of  angels  also  the  existence. 


302  FA  l/ST. 

Sceptic.  Misled  they  follow  fairy  rays, 

That  promise  gold  with  gay  delusion  : 
Devil  and  Doubt,  the  proverb  says, 
And  both  increase  to-night's  confusion. 

Leader  of  the  Band.  Grasshopper  among  the  bushes. 
Brown  frog  croaking  from  the  rushes, 
Hell  and  all  its  devils  haunt  ye, 
Good-for-nothing  dilettanti — 
Pretty  sort  of  harmony, 
Nose  of  gnat  and  snout  of  fly. 

Shrewd  Fellows.  Call  us  Sans-souci — for  you  know 
That  each  of  us,  a  gay  philosopher, 
If  on  his  feet  he  cannot  go, 
Walks  on  his  head,  nor  fears  a  toss  over. 

Awkward  Clumsy  Creatures.  Oh  once.  Heaven  help  us  ! 
we  could  dance  ; 
How  pompously  we  then  did  swagger  ! 
Now  shoes  out-worn,  and  sore  feet  torn, 
Along  the  course  we  faintly  stagger, 

Will-d-the~  Wisps.  From  the  sink  and  slough  we  come, 
From  the  hole  of  steaming  nitre ; 
And  yet,  in  all  this  dazzling  room, 

Shine  there  sparks  more  gay  or  brighter? 

Falli?ig  Star.  Rapidly  I  shot  from  high, 

With  fiery  course  in  brightness  starry ; 


FA  UST.  303 

Here  broken  on  the  grass  I  lie, 

With  none  to  help  me,  none  to  carry. 

Heavy  Bodies.  Places — places — round  go  we — 
Where  we  dance  how  bare  the  sod  is ; 
Spirits  move,  and  all  may  see 
Spirits  have  substantial  bodies. 

Puck.  Like  awkward  elephants  they  thump 

The  ground  with  clumsy  hoofs  and  heavy, 
Strange  shadows  !     Puck  alone  is  plump, 
The  sleekest  spirit  at  the  levee. 

Ariel.  If  wings  be  yours — boon  Nature's  gift — 
And  if  the  spirit  so  disposes, 
Then  follow  Ariel — follow  swift — 
Your  guide  to  yonder  hill  of  roses. 

Orchestra  [pianissimo].  Daylight! — the  cloud-built  stage 

— the  wreaths 
Of  vapour, — where  are  they  ? 

On  reed  and  rush  the  free  air  breathes, 
And  sweeps  the  dream  away. 

A   Gloomy   Day. — A  Plain. 

Faust.  In  misery— in  despair — long  wandering  in  wretch- 
edness over  the  wide  world ;  and  now  taken  up — shut  up 
in  the  prison  as  a  malefactor — this  gentle,  unhappy  creature 


304  FAUST. 

— for  horrid  tortures.  To  this — and  has  it  come  to  this? 
Treacherous,  worthless  Spirit !  and  this  hast  thou  been 
conceaUng  from  me !  Stand,  there,  stand  !  Ay  !  roll  the 
devil  eyes  furiously  round  in  thy  head — ay !  stand  and  defy 
me  with  thy  unsupportable  presence.  Taken  up — in  dis- 
tress irretrievable — given  over  to  evil  spirits— abandoned  to 
— man — man  that  passes  judgment,  and  is  devoid  of  feeling; 
and  all  this,  while  you  have  been  lulling  and  rocking  me 
and  deluding  me  among  loathsome  dissipations,  and  hiding 
from  me  her  continually  increasing  wretchedness,  and  have 
left  her  to  perish  without  help  ! 

Meph.  She  is  not  the  first ! 

Faust.  Dog !  abhorred  monster  I  turn  himi,  oh,  thou  in- 
finite Spirit,  turn  the  reptile  again  into  his  dog's  shape,  in 
which  it  was  often  his  pleasure  to  scamper  before  me  by 
night,  to  roll  before  the  feet  of  the  unthinking  passer-by, 
and  as  he  fell  to  fasten  on  his  shoulders.  Turn  him  again 
into  his  darling  shape,  that  he  may  crouch  upon  his  belly 
before  me  in  the  sand,  and  that  I  may  trample  upon  him 
with  my  foot — the  outcast !  Not  the  first !  Misery — misery 
— by  no  human  soul  is  it  to  be  fathomed  how  more  than 
one  creature  should  have  sunk  into  the  depths  of  this  dis- 
tress— that  the  first  should  not  have  suffered  enough  in  her 
agonizing  tortures  to  secure  the  atonement  of  all  the  rest 
before  the  eyes  of  tlie  All-merciful !  I  feel  marrow  and  life 
harrowed  up  by  the  misery  of  this  one — only  this  one ! 
thou  art  grinning  calmly  over  the  fate  of  thousands  ! 


FAUST,  305 

Meph,  At  our  wits'  end  we  are  again,  it  would  seem, 
already — just  where  you  mortals  find  the  overstrained  facul- 
ties snap.  Why  seek  our  society,  if  you  cannot  go  through 
with  it?  Think  of  flying,  and  yet  art  not  proof  against 
dizziness  !  Did  we  force  ourselves  upon  thee?  or  thou 
thyself  upon  us  ? 

Faust.  Show   not   thy   thirsty    teeth   thus    defyingly — I 
loathe  thee.     Great,  glorious  Spirit !   thou  who  didst  deign 
to  appear  to  me,  thou  who  knowest  my  very  heart  and ; 
why  hast  thou  chained  me  with  this  companion  who  feeds 
on  mischief,  and  battens  on  destruction  ? 

Meph.  Are  you  done  ? 

Faust.  Save  her,  or  v/oe  to  thee  !  the  most  horrible  curse 
on  thee  for  thousands  of  years. 

Meph.  I  cannot  loosen  the  avenger's  fetters — I  cannot 
open  his  bolts.  Save  her !  Who  was  it  that  threw  her  into 
ruin — I  or  thou  ?  [Faust  looks  wildly  around* 

Art  thou  grasping  for  the  thunder  ?  Well  that  it  has  not 
been  given  to  you  wretched  mortals  !  To  dash  to  pieces 
one  who  stands  in  your  way — however  innocent — that  is 
just  the  tyrant's  way  of  rescuing  himself  in  every  perplexity. 

Faust.  Take  me  thither — she  shall  be  free  ! 

Meph.  The  danger  to  which  you  expose  yourself— have 
you  thought  of  that  ?  The  guilt  of  blood  shed  by  your 
hand  still  lies  on  the  town.  Over  the  place  where  the  mur- 
der was  committed  avenging  spirits  are  hovering  and 
watching  for  the  returning  murderer. 


3o6  FAUST. 

Faust.  That,  too,  and  from  thee  ?  Murder  and  death  of 
a  world  upon  thee,  monster  !  Take  me  thither,  I  say,  and 
set  her  at  liberty. 

Meph.  I  will, — and  all  I  can  do  I  will.  What  that  all  is, 
listen  till  I  tell  you.  Have  /  all  power  in  heaven  and  on 
earth  ?  I  will  cloud  the  gaoler's  senses.  Do  you  possess 
yourself  of  the  keys,  and  carry  her  off  with  human  hand. 
Meanwhile  I  watch ;  the  magic  horses  are  ready,  and  I 
take  you  away.     This  much  I  can  do. 

Faust.  Up  and  away  ! 


Night. — Open  Plam. 

Faust  and  Mephistopheles  rushing  along  on  Black 
Horses. 

Faust.  What  are  the  figures  near  the  gibbet  doing  ? 
Weaving,  'twould  seem  ! 

Meph.  No — rather  boiling,  brev/ing 

Some  filthy  broth — mumbling  some  incantation; 

Faust.  East  they  move,  and  west  they  move— now  kneel, 
now  bend  down  in  prostration. 

Meph.  Witches  worshipping  their  master. 

Faust.  They  scatter  something  on  the  earth,  and  now 
seem  pouring  a  libation — 
■They  sprinkle  something  in  the  air. 

Meph.  Forward !  forward  ! — faster !  faster  1 


FAUST,  307 

Prison, 

Fmist  \ivith  a  bunch  of  heys  and  a  lamp,  before  an  iron 
wicket].  'Tis  many  a  day  since  I  have  trembled  thus. 
Misery  on  misery  heaped — a  heavy  burden. 
More  than  man  can  endure,  has  weighed  me  down. 
And  here  within  these  damp  walls  doth  she  live, 
And  is  to  die  because  she  was  deluded — 
To  die  for  that  her  brain  was  wild  and  frenzied. 
And  thou  dost  hesitate  to  go  to  her ! 
Dost  fear  to  look  upon  that  face  again  I 
Onward,  irresolute  ! — this  wavering 
Delays  not  death. 

[^He  takes  hold  of  the  lock. — Singing  from  within.^ 
Song. 

My  mother  !  my  inother  ! 

The  ivanton  woman — My  mother  hath  slain  me. 

My  father^  inhujnan,  for  supper  hath  to! en  me — 

My  little  sister  hath,  one  by  one. 

Laid  together  each  small  zvhite  bo7ie, 

'Mong  almond  blossoms  to  sleep  in  the  cool; 

And  1  woke  me  a  wood-bird  beantiful. 
Fly  aw  ay  ^  fly  away,  all  the  long  summei'-day^ 
Little  bird  of  the  woods,  fly  away  !  fly  away  I 

Faust  \openi7ig  the  wicket\  She  feels  not  that  her  love  is 

listening — 


3o8  FAUST. 

Hear  the  chains,  as  they  clank,  and  the  straw  rustling. 

\He  enters. 
Marg.  [/udi?ig  her  face  in  the  straw  of  her  bed'].  Woe ! 

woe  !  they  come  !  they  come  !  — death,  bitter  death  ! 
Faust  [in  a  low  voice\.  Hush !  hush !  'tis  I  who  come  to 

rescue  thee ! 
Marg.  \r oiling   herself  at  his  feet\    Art   thou   a  man? 
Have  pity  upon  me. 

Faust.  Hush  !  hush  !  these  screams  and  shrieks  will  wake 
the  keepers.    \Hc  takes  hold  of  the  chains  to  unlock  them. 
'Marg.  \thr Giving  herself  on  her  knees  to  him\  Savage,  who 
gave  this  cruel  power  to  thee  ? 
It  is  not  more  than  midnight  now — have  mercy  ! 
Is  it  too  long  a  time  to  wait  till  morn  ?  \She  stands  up. 

And  I  am  still  so  young — so  very  young ! 
And  must  I  die  so  soon  ? — and  I  was  fair — 
And  I  was  fair,  and  that  was  my  undoing. 
Oh,  if  my  love  were  here — but  he  is  gone — 
Torn  is  my  garland — scattered  all  its  flowers — 
Oh,  do  not  grasp  me  with  such  violence — 
Ah,  spare  me  !  sure  I  have  not  injured  thee  : 
Let  me  not  weep  and  pray  to  thee  in  vain  1 
Spare  me — I  never  saw  thy  face  before. 
Faust.  I  must— I  must  endure  this  misery! 
Marg.  I  know  that  I  am  wholly  in  thy  power — 
Only  permit  me  first  to  give  my  breast 
To  this  poor  child  of  mine :  all  the  long  night 


FAUST. 


309 


I  hugged  it  to  my  heart,  they  took  it  from  me ; 
They  took  away  my  child  to  torture  me, 
And  now  they  say  that  I  have  murdered  it, 
And  never  never  more  shall  I  be  happy : 
And  they  sing  songs  about  me — 'twas  Hi  done; 
It  was  ill  done — so  the  old  ballad  runs. 
Who  told  them  I  was  meant  in  it  ? 

Faust  \throivs  himself  dozvfi].  A  lover,  Margaret,  lies  at 
thy  feet ; 
He  comes  to  undo  these  bonds — unloose  these  fetters. 

Marg.  \throws  herself  beside  hini.\  Let  us  kneel  down,  and 
call  upon  the  saints. 
See  !  see  !  beneath  us  hell  boils  up— the  devil 
Is  raving  there  below  in  hideous  din ! 

Faust  [alotid].  Margaret — Margaret. 

Marg.  [with  eager  attention].  That  is  my  love's  voice. 

[Springs  np — her  irons  fall  off. 
Where  is  he? — Where? — I  heard  my  own  love's  voice  ! 
Now  am  I  free,  none,  none  shall  keep  me  from  him. 
ni  clasp  his  neck — will  lean  upon  his  bosom ; 
I  heard  him  call, — he's  standing  on  the  threshold, — 
I  heard  him  call  the  name  of  Margaret ; — 
Amid  the  noises  and  the  howls  of  hell, 
And    threats,    and    taunts,    and    laughs    of    devilish 

scorn, 
I  heard  my  own  love's  voice — his  loving  voice  \ 

Faust.  'Tis  I. 


mgm 


310  FAUST. 

Marg.  'Tis  thou  !— oh,  tell  me  so  once  more  ! 

[Presses  him  to  her  bosom. 
Tis  he,  'tis  he — my  pangs,  where  are  they  now  ? 
Dungeon,     and    chains,    and    scaffold,     where    are 

they?  , 

"'Tis  thou,  and  thou  hast  come  to  rescue  me. 
I  am  already  free  :  look — there's  the  street 
Where  we  first  met — where  first  I  saw  my  love— 
And  yonder  is  the  cheerful  garden,  smiling, 
Where  I  and  Martha  waited  to  receive  thee. 

Faust  [striving  to  take  her  away].  Come,  come  with  me. 

Marg.  Oh,  stay  a  little  while — 

Some  moments  more — I  love  to  stay  with  thee ! 

\C ares  sing  him, 

Faust.  Haste — haste — a  moment  lost  we  dearly  rue  it. 

Marg.  So  short  a  time  away  from  me,  my  love, 
Already  hast  forgotten  how  to  kiss  ! 
Why  do  I  feel  so  sad  upon  your  neck  ? 
Time  was  all  hea-ven  was  pressing  down  upon  me 
In  all  thy  words, — in  every  look  of  thine, 
Yes,  very  heaven, — and  then,  then  you  did  kiss  me 
As  if  you  would  smother  me  with  your  kisses  ! 
Kiss  me— now  kiss  me,  love — or  I  kiss  thee  ! 

[She  ejnhraced  hifn. 
Ah  me  !  you  lips  are  cold — are  dumb — are  dead — 
Where  are  my  kisses,  where?   with  whom  have  you  left 
them  ? 


FAUST.  p^x 

Where  is  my  love  ?  who  robbed  me  of  your  love  ? 

[Turns  from  him. 

Faust.  Come,  come — take  courage,  follow  me,  my  love. 
I  love  thee  with  unutterable  love ; 
But  follow  me, — this  one—this  one  request. 

Marg.  \turningtohwi\.  And  is  it  thou,and  is  it  thou  indeed? 

Faust.  Yes,  yes  !     But  come  ! 

Marg.  And  do  you  break  my  chains  1 

And  do  you  take  me  to  your  heart  again  ! 
How  is  it  you  do  not  shudder  at  my  sight  ? 
And  knowest  thou  whom  thou  art  delivering? 

Faust.  Come  !— the  deep  night  is  fading  fast  away. 

Marg.  My  mother^  I  have  murdered  her — my  child, 
I  drowned  my  child — Oh  was  it  not,  a  gift 
To  thee  and  me  ? — yes  thee  !  yes,  thine  !  and  thou  art  here, 
I  scarcely  can  believe  it  is  thyself. 
Give  me  thy  hand — it  is  not  then  a  dream  ;  ^ 

Thine  own  dear  hand.     Oh,  God!  his  hand  is  moist — 
Wipe,  wipe  it  off !  methought  it  felt  like  blood  ! 
What  hast  thou  done  ?     Put  up  the  bloody  sword ; 
I  pray  thee  do. 

Faust.  Oh  think  not  of  the  past ; 

That  which  is  done,  is  done.     You  are  killing  me. 

Marg.  No,  you  must  live.     No,  you  have  to  remain, 
I  will  describe  to  you  the  graves  which  you 
To-morrow  must  see  made  ;  the  best  place  give 
To  my  poor  mother — near  her  lay  my  brother — 


31-  FAUST. 

And  by  their  side,  a  little  space  away, 
But  not  too  far  from  them  must  be  my  place — 
And  lay  the  little  one  on  my  right  breast ; 
No  other  will  lie  with  me  in  that  bed ! 
To  nestle  down  in  quiet  side  by  side 
To  thee — oh  what  a  happy  thing  it  was — ■ 
A  happy  thing  that  never  more  can  be. 
■  I  feel  as  if  I  forced  myself  on  thee, 
And  that  thou  wert  repelUng  my  embrace ; 
And  yet  thou  art  the  same — and  yet  thy  looks 
Are  good  and  kind,  as  they  have  ever  been. 

Faust.  Oh,  if  thou  feelest  that  'tis  I,  come,  come. 

Marg.  What  ?  out  there  ? 

Faust  Yes  !  out  into  the  free  air. 

Maro.  Ay,  to  the  grave — does  not  death  lurk  without  .> 
Come  to  the  bed  of  everlasting  rest — 
Yes^  yes — that's  all — that's  all — not  a  step  farther-— 
Are  you  going,  Henry  ?  may  I  go  with  you  ? 

Faust.  Come,  come ;  the  gates  are  open,  only  come. 

Marg.  I  dare  not  go ;  there  is  no  help  for  me. 
What  good  is  it  to  fly  ?     My  steps  are  watched. 
It  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  forced  to  beg. 
And  harder,  harassed  by  an  evil  conscience. 
'Tis  hard  to  wander  in  a  foreign  land, 
And  then,  whate'er  I  do,  at  last  they'll  seize  me. 

Faust.  I  will  be  with  thee. 

Mai'g.  [tuiidiy].  Fly,  fly, 


FAUST,  313 

Save  thy  poor  child ; 

Away  to  the  road, 

By  the  side  of  the  stream, 

And  across  the  path 

That  leads  to  the  wood ; 

Then  turn  to  the  left, 

And  over  the  plank. 

It  lies  in  the  pond. 

Loiter  not,  linger  not. 

Still  does  it  stir 

With  the  motion  of  life. 

The  little  hands  struggle 

More  faintly  and  faintly, 

Rescue  !  Oh  rescue ! 
Faust.  Eecall    thy    wandering    mind — be    calm !    be 
calm! 
One  step,  and  you  are  free. 

Marg.  Oh,  that  we  had  but  left  that  hill  behind  ! 
See  there,  my  mother  sitting  on  a  stone — 
Icy-cold  comes  a  dead  hand  on  my  temples. 
My  mother  there  is  sitting  on  a  stone, 
And  her  grey  head  is  trembling,  and  her  eyes 
Close,  and  she  now  has  ceased  to  nod ;  her  head 
Looks  heavy,  and  she  sleeps  too  long— too  long — ■ 
Oh,  when  she  sank  to  sleep  how  blest  we  were ! 
It  was  a  happy  time  ! 

Faust.  She  listens  not ; 


314  FAUST, 

Words  have  no  weight  with  her.     There  is  no  way, 
But  forcibly  to  bear  thee  hence. 

Marg.  Touch  me  not ;  no,  I  will  not  -suffer  violence : 
Seize  me  not  with  that  murderer's  grasp ;  whate'er 
I  did  was  done  for  thee,  my  love.     I  did 
Every  thmg  my  love  asked  me,  willingly. 

Faust,  Dav  dawns— oh,  hasten  hence,  my  love  !  my  love ! 

Marg.  Day  !  yes,  'tis  day,  the  last,  the  judgment- day ; 
My  bridal- day  it  should  have  been ;  tell  none 
That  thou  hast  been  with  poor  weak  Margaret. 
Alas  !  my  garland  is  already  withered ; 
We'll  meet  again,  but  not  at  dances,  love  : 
The  crowd  is  gathering  tumultuously, 
The  square  and  street  are  thronged  with  crushing  thousands ; 
The  bell  hath  sounded  j  the  death-wand  is  broken  ; 
They  bind  and  blindfold  me,  and  force  me  on : 
On  to  the  scaffold  they  have  hurried  me ; 
Down  in  the  chair  of  blood  they  fasten  me  : 
And  now,  through  every  neck  of  all  that  multitude 
Is  felt  the  bitter  wound  that  severs  mine. 
The  world  is  now  as  silent  as  the  grave  ! 

Faust.  Oh,  that  I  never  had  been  born  ! 

Meph.  [appears  at  the  door].  Away,  or  you  are  lost; 
This  trembling,  and  delay,  and  idle  chattering, 
Will  be  your  ruin  ;  hence,  or  you  are  lost ; 
My  horses  shiver  in  the  chilling  breeze 
Qf  the  grey  morning. 


FAUST.  315 

Marg.  What  shape  is  that  which  rises  from  the  earth  ? 
'Tis  he,  ^tis  he,  oh,  send  hirn  from  this  place  ; 
What  wants  he  here  ?     Oh,  what  can  bring  him  here  ? 
Wliy  does  he  tread  on  consecrated  ground  ? 
He  comes  for  me. 

Faust.  Oh,  thou  shalt  live,  my  love. 

Marg.  Upon  the  judgrnent-throne  of  God,  I  call ; 
On  God  I  call  in  humble  supplication. 

Meph.  \to  Faust].  Come,  or  I  leave  thee  here  to  share 
her  fate. 

Marg.  Father  of  heaven,  have  mercy  on  thy  child. 
Ye  angels,  holy  hosts,  keep  watch  around  me. 
Henry — I  am  afraid  to  look  at  thee. 

Meph.  Come — she  is  judged  ! 

Voice  \_from  ahovc\.  Is  saved. 

Meph,  \to  Faust],  Hither  to  me  ! 

[^Disappears  with  Faust. 

Voice  [from  within,  dying  away\.  Henry  !  Henry ! 


THE   END. 


CALLANTYNE  PRESS:    LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


lessrs.  Greorge  Eoutledge  &  Sons' 

LIST      OF 

ANNOUNCEMENTS. 


Two  Entirely  New  Copyright  Volumes  of  Essays  by 

the  late  R.  W.  Emerson.     5^-.  each. 

An  Entirely  New  Complete  Copyright  Edition  of  the 

Writings    of   R.    W.  Emerson.     With  Original   Notes  to  all  the 
Volumes  by  his  Literary  Executors.     In  Six  Volumes.     S^.  each. 


MJ^.    LONGFELLOW'S    LAST  POEM— COPYRIGHT. 

Michael  Angelo.  By  the  late  H.  W.  Longfellow.  With  17 
full-page  Original  Illustrations  and  20  Woodcuts,  specially  designed 
for  this  work.      184  pp.  Ato,  cloth,  gilt  edges.     2\s. 


A  New  Edition  of  the  Works  of  W.  H.  Prescott.    In  15 

Vols.     Crown  8vo,  cloth.     £2  \2s.  6d. 

Men  of  the  Time.  The  Eleventh  Edition,  Revised  to  18S3. 
Crown  8vo,  cloth.      15^-. 

Shakspere.  Edited  by  Charles  Knight.  With  340  Illustrations 
by  Sir  John  Gilbert,  R.  A.     Super-royal  8vo,  cloth.      15s-. 

The   Imperial  Natural  History.    By  the  Rev.  j.  G.  Wood, 

M.A.      1,000  pages,    with  500  Woodcuts.     Super-royal  8vo,   cloth. 
15^. 

The  Cream  of  Leicestershire :  Eleven  Seasons'  Skim- 
mings, Notable  Runs,  and  Incidents  of  the  Chase.  By  Captain 
Pennell-Elmiiirst  ("  Erooksby  ").  With  Illustrations  (Coloured 
and  Plain)  by  John  Sturgess,  and  Portraits  and  Map.  Medium 
Svo,  cloth.      12S.  6d. 

The  Birthday  Book  of  Flower   and   Song.     Edited  by 

Alicia  A.  Leitii.     With  full-page  Illustrations  printed  in  colours. 
4to,  cloth,  gilt  edges,      ioj-,  6d. 


George  Rcittledge  &  Sons* 


A  New  Large -Type  Edition  of  Professor  Henry  Mor- 

ley's  Edition  of  "  The  Spectator."     800  pp.  in  each  Volume.     In. 
3  Vols.     Crown  Svo,  clotli.     lOi'.  6d. 

Tlie  Worlis  of  Y/illiam  Hogartli.  By  John  Ireland.  With 
S8  Copper-Plate  Engravings.     Super-royal  Svo,  cloth,      los.  6d. 

Eartlett's  Familiar  Quotations.  Author's  New,  Revised,  and 
Enlarged  Edition,  printed  from  new  American  Electrotype  Plates,  on 
highly  finished  paper.     Crown  Svo,  cloth.     7^.  ()d. 

A  Dictionary  of  Statistics.    Edited  by  M.   G.   Mulhall. 

Crown  Svo.     ^s.  6d.     Roxburghe. 

Discoveries  and  Inventions  of  the  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury. By  Robert  Routledge,  B.Sc,  F.C.S.  With  400  Illus- 
trations. Crown  Svo,  cloth,  gilt  edges.  New  and  Cheaper  Edition. 
7^-.  6d. 

A  Popular  History  of  Science.    By  Robert  Routledge, 

B.Sc,  F.C.S.     With  333  Illustrations  and  full-page  Plates.     Crown 
ovo,  cloth,  gilt  edges.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition,     'js.  6d. 

The  Homes  and  Haunts  of  the  British  Poets.  By  Wil- 
liam HowiTT.     With  Portraits  and  Illustrations,      'js.  6d. 

Eontledge's  Every  Boy's  Annual  for  1884.    With  many 

Illustrations  and  13  Coloured  Plates.     Twenty-second  year  of  Pub- 
lication.    6s. 

Eontledge's  Every  Girl's  Annual  for  1884.    With  many 

Illustrations  and  12  Coloured  Plates.     Sixth  Year  of  Publication.  6s, 

The   Circus   and    Menagerie    Book.     Printed  in  Colours. 

Fancy  Boards,  (Js. 

The  Imperial  Natural  History  Picture  Book,    With  80 

full-page  Illustrations.     5^.     (And  in  boards,  3^.  6d.) 

Little  Wideavyrake  for  1884.  By  ^Irs.  Sale  Barker.  With 
Original  Plain  and  Coloured  Illustrations,  by  M.  E.  Edwards,  M. 
Kekns,  Charlotte  Weeks,  and  others.  Crown  4to,  cloth,  gilt 
edges.     5^.     (And  in  boards,  3J.  6d.) 

The  Boy's  Playbook  of  Science.    By  Professor  j.  H.  Petper. 

With  400  Illustrations.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     5^-. 

The  Playbook  of  Metals.  By  John  Henry  Pepper.  With 
300  Illustrations.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     5^'. 

The  Young  Lady's  Book :  A  Manual  of  Amusements^ 

Exercises,  Studies,  and  Pursuits.     Edited  by  Mrs.  Henry  Mac-- 
KARNESS.     With  270  Illustrations.     New  and  Cheaper  Edition.     5j. 


New  Books  and  Nczv  Editions.  3 

Notable  Voyages :  From  Columbus  to  Parry.    By  W.  H. 

G.  Kingston.     With  Illustrations.     5^. 

Great    African    Travellers:     From    Mungo    Park    to 

Livingstone  and  Stanley.     By  W.  II.  G.  Kingston.     With  Map 
and  Illustrations.     5^. 

Travelling  About  Over  New  and  Old  Ground.    By  Lady 

Barker.     With  Maps  and  Illustrations.     5^-. 

Modern  Magic:  A  Practical  Treatise  on  the  Art  of 

Conjuring.     By  Professor  Hoffmann.     With  318  Illustrations.    5^. 

The  Practical  Family  Lawyer.    By  w.  A.  Holdsworth. 

Barrister-at-Law.     A  New  and  Revised  Edition,  embodying  all  the 
Legal  Changes  to  June,  1 883.     5^\ 

A  New    Volume    of   Randolph    Caldecott's    Picture 

Books,  containing  his  four  latest  Shilling  Toy  Books.     5^. 

Lamb's  Tales  Prom  Sha-kspeare.    With  Illustrations  by  Sir 

John  Gilbert,  R.A.     Cloth  gilt,  $s.     (And  in  boards,  3^-.  6d.) 

Dodd's  Beauties    of   Shakspeare.     With    Illustrations   by   Sir 
John  Gilbert,  R.A.     Cloth  gilt,  5^-.     (And  in  boards,  3.?,  6d.) 

Robinson  Crusoe.     With  Portrait  and   100  Illustrations  by  J.  D„ 
Watson.     Cloth  gilt,  5^.     (And  in  boards,  3s.  6^^.) 


KATE    GREENAWAY'S   NEW   CHRISTMAS   BOOK. 
Little  Ann,  and  Other  Poems.    By  Jane  and  Ann  Taylor. 
With  Original    Illustrations,    by   Kate    Greenaway.     Printed    in 
Colours,  by  Edmund  Evans.     5^-. 


Mano:  A  Poetical  History  of  the  Time  of  the  Close 

of  the  Tenth  Century,  concerning  the  Adventures  of  a  Nor- 
man Knight.  By  Richard  Watson  Dixon,  Vicar  of  Playton, 
Hon.  Canon  of  Carlisle.     5^". 

Little  Tiny's  Book.  With  many  illustrations.  Fcap.  4to,  cloth. 
5s.     (And  in  boards,  3^'.) 

King  Arthur  and  His  Knights  of  the   Round   Table. 

By  Henry  Frith.     With  50  Illustrations,  by  F.  A.  Eraser,  y.  Gd. 

Robin  Hood :  Ballads  and  Songs.  Collected  by  Joseph  Rit- 
soN.  With  50  Original  Illustrations,  by  Gordon  Browne.  {Red 
Line  Focis.)     3^-,  6d. 

]y[rs.  Hemans's  Poems.  A  New  Edition.  With  50  Illustrations, 
by  Hal  LupLow.     {Red  line  Pods,)    y.  ^d, 


George  Routledge  &  Sons' 


The  Fcems  of  James  Russell  Lov/ell.  {Red  Line  Pods.)  y.  6d. 

Longfellow's  Poems.  New  Edition,  re-set  from  new  type,  contain- 
ing Eighty-six  Copyright  Poems.  With  d>T,  Illustrations  in  the  Text 
by  Sir  John  Gilbert,  R. A.,  and  other  Artists.  {Red  Line  Poets.) 
3^.  6d. 

Old  Wives'  Fables.  By  Edouard  Laboulaye.  With  many 
Illustrations.     3^.  6d. 

Routledge's  Juvenile  Books  for  Boys.  New  Volumes.  3^.  Cd. 

each. 

Boys.     By  Lady  Barker. 

Hunting    Grounds  of  the   Whole   World.     By  the   Old  She- 

KARRY. 

Ascents  and  Adventures :  A  Record  of  Hardy  Mountaineering. 

By  Henry  Frith. 
Mayrick's  Promise ;    or,    Little   Fugitives    from   the    Jamaica 

Rebellion  in  1865.     By  E.  C.  I'iiillips. 
Holiday  Stories  for  Boys  and  Girls,     Biy  Lady  Barker. 
Foxholme  Hall.     By  W.  H.  G.  Kingston. 
With  the  Colours.     By  R.  M.  Jephsox. 
The  Roll  of  the  Drum.     By  R.  iNI.  Jephson. 
Sir  Edward  Seaward's  Narrative    of  His    Shipwreck.     Edited 

by  Jane  Porter. 
Perrault's  F^.iry  Tales.     Translated  l)y  J.  R.  PlanchiS. 
D'Aulnoy's  Fai-y  Tales.     Translated  Ijy  J.  R.  PLANCiiii 

The  Bible  Emblem  Anniversary  Book.  With  365  illustra- 
tions by  William  Foster.  Printed  in  Colours  by  Edmund  Evans. 
3^-.  6d.     (And  in  boards,  2s.  6d. ) 

Phiz's  Toy  Book.  With  44  p.-^ges  of  Coloured  Plates.  Cloth, 
2,s.6d.     (Boards,  2 J.  6</.) 

Routledge's  Young  Ladies'  Library.    New  Volumes.    3^.  6d. 

each. 
The  Old  House  in  the  Square.     By  Alice  AVerer. 
The  Asheldon  Schoolroom.     By  the  Author  of  "  Jeanette,"  &c. 
Tempest-Tossed,  the    Story  of    Seejungfer.     By  the   Author   of 

"Mademoiselle  i\Iori." 
The  Doctor's  Little  Daughter.     By  Eliza  Meteyard. 
Schoolgirls  all  the  World  Over.     With  numerous  Illustrations. 
Mark  Dennison's  Charge.     By  G.  M.  Craik. 
Dora  and  Her  Papa.     By  Eliza  Meteyard. 
Lord  Braborrne's  Fairy  Tales.    New  and  Cheaper  Edition. 

3^^.  6d.  each. 
stories  for  My  Children.  |        Ferdinand's  Adventure. 


ROUTLEDGE'S   STANDARD    LIBRARY, 

Crown  8vo,  cloth,  3s.  6d.  each. 


1  I'lie  Arabian  Nights,  Unabridged, 

8  plates. 

2  Don  Quixote,  Unabridged. 

3  Gil    Bias,     Adventures     of,      Un- 

abridged. 

4  Curiosities  of  Literature,  by  Isaac 

D" Israeli,  Complete  Edition. 

5  A  Thousand   and    One   Gems   of 

British  Poetry. 

6  The   Blackfriars  Shakspere,  edited 

by  Charles  Knight. 

7  Cruden's  Concordance,  by  Carey. 

8  Boswell's  Life  of  Dr.  Johnson. 

9  The  Works  of  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

11  The  Family  Doctor,  500  woodcuts. 

12  Sterne's  Works,  Complete. 

13  Ten  Thousand  Wonderful  Things. 

14  Extraordinary  Popular   Delusions, 

by  Dr.  Mackay. 

16  Bartlett's  Familiar  Quotations. 

17  The   Spectator,    by  Addison,   &c. 

Unabridged. 

18  Routledge's     Modern      Speaker- 

Comic — Serious — Dramatic. 

19  One  Thousand  and  One  Gems  of 

Prose,  edited  by  C.  Mackay. 

20  Pope's  Homer's  Ihad  and  Odyssey. 

23  Josephus,  translated  by  Whiston. 

24  Book  of  Proverbs,  Phrases,  Quota- 

tions, and  Mottoes. 

25  The  Book  of  Modern  Anecdotes — 

Theatrical,  Legal,  and  American. 

26  Book  of  Table  Talk,  W.  C.  Russell. 

27  Junius,  Wocdfall's  edition. 

28  Charles  Lamb's  Works. 

29  Froissart's  Chronicles.         [mation. 

30  D'Aubigne's   Story    of  the  Refor- 

31  A  History  of  England,  by  the  Rev. 

James  White. 

32  Macaulay — Selected    Essays,    Mis- 

cellaneous Writings. 

33  Carleton's  Traits,  ist  series. 
2^  2nd  series. 

35  Essays  by  Sydney  Smith. 

36  Dante.     Longfellow's  translation. 

51  Prescott's  Biographical  and  Cridcal 

Essays. 

52  Napier's  History  of  the  Peninsular 

War,  1807-10,        53 1810-12. 

54  White's    Natural   History  of   Sel- 

borne,  with  many  illustrations. 

55  Dean  Milman's  History  of  the  Jews 

56  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry 

57  Chaucer's  Poetical  Works. 

58  Longfellow's  Prose  Works. 

59  Spenser's  Poetical  Works. 

60  Asmodeus,  by  Le  Sage. 

61  Book  of  British  Ballads,  S.  C.  Hall. 

62  Plutarch's  Lives  (Langhorne's  ed. 


64  Book  of  Epigrams,  W,  D.  Adams. 

65  Longfellow's  Poems  (Comp.  ed.) 

66  Lemprieres  Classical  Dictionary. 

67  Adam  Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations. 

68  Father  P rout's  Works,  edited  by 

C.  Kent. 

69  Carleton's     Traits    and    Stories. 

Complete  in  one  volume. 

70  W^alker's  Rhyming  Dictionary. 

71  Macfarlane's  Hist,  of  British  India. 

72  Defoe's  Journal  of  the  Plague  and 

the  Great  Fire  of  London,  with 
illustrations  on  steel  by  George 
Cruikshank. 

73  GhmpscsofthePast,  by  C.  Knight. 

74  Michaud's  History  of  the  Crusades, 

vol.  I, 

75  vol.  2.       76  vol,  3. 

'jj  A   Thousand   and   One  Gems  of 

Song,  edited  by  C,  Mackay. 

78  Motley's  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Re- 

public. [Complete, 

79  Prescott's  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 

80  Conquest  of  Mexico.  Comp. 

8  c  Conquest   of  Peru.  Comp. 

82 Charles  the  Fifth. 

83  Philip  the  Second.     Vols. 

I  and  2  in  i  vol, 

84  Vol.  3  and  Essays  in  i  vol. 

85  Jeremy  Taylor's  Life  of  Christ. 

86  Traditions  of  Lancashire,  by  John 

Roby,  vol.  I.        87  vol.  2. 

88  "The  Breakfast  Table  Series"— 

The  Autocrat — The  Professor — 
The  Poet— by  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  with  steel  portrait, 

89  Romaine's   Life,  Walk,  and  Tri- 

umph of  Faith, 

90  Napier's  History  of  the  Peninsular 

War,  1812-14'.  [tion. 

91  Hawker's  Poor  Man's  Daily  Por- 

92  Chevreul   on   Colour,  with  8   co- 

loured plates. 

93  Shakspere,  edited  by  C.   Knight, 

large  type  edition,  \vith  full-page 
illustrations,  vol.  i, 

94  — vol,  2.         95 vol.  3. 

96  The  Spectator,large  type  ed.  ,vol,i. 
97 vol.  2.        98  vol.  3. 

99  R.W,  Emerson's  Complete  Works. 
100  Boswell's    Life    of  Johnson    and 

Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  vol.  i. 
loi  — -  vol,  2,         102  vol.  3, 

103  S,  Knowles'  Dramatic  Works. 

104  Roscoe's  (W.)  Lorenzo  de  Medici.    ! 

105  { W. )  Life  of  Leo  X. ,  vol.  i. 

106   vol.  2.     I 

107  Berington's    Literary   History  of   1 

the  Middle  Ages.  |