University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A splendid Room.
Mephistophiles and Faustus seated at a table, with wine before them.
Faus.
I would I might forget that night of blood.

Meph.
Then drink, man, drink; wine is your only Lethe;
Except indeed 'tis death—but that's a draught
You men, with all your talking, find too bitter.
Ha! yonder comes Adine.—

Faus.
I will not see her.
Must I be tortur'd with her pray'rs and tears?
I'm curst enough without—I will not see her.

Meph.
Ho! ho! he fears her! why I thought 'twas only
Your well-tam'd husbands fear'd the gentler sex.
Yet faith I cannot blame you: oh, you'll have
An admirable lecture on the text
Of murder and seduction.—I'll stand by
And edify.

Faus.
I understand the sneer.

Meph.
No sneer, my friend; perhaps a little wonder
That he who rules the fiend should fear a woman.

[Exit.
Enter Adine.
Faus.
Why's this Adine? why am I follow'd, hunted,
Bay'd like a beast of blood? Is this the way,
Think you, to win a lost affection?
No weeping, no reproaches! Do you hear?
I will not brook them.

Adine.
Do not fling me from you;
Do not, dear Faustus; oh, if you desert me
I'm lost indeed!

Faus.
Desert you? No: yon chest
Is fill'd with diamonds, each more rich
Than ever glitter'd on the Persian's brow;
Take it, 'tis your's.

Adine.
You cannot mean this, Faustus.
You are too kind, too noble—would not break
The heart that loves you.

Faus.
Not contented yet!
With this you may be all your sex desires.
Would you have pleasure? why, this buys you pleasure;
Would you have fame? why, here is honour's purchase;
Would you have love? why one, the least of these,
Will make you shine a Venus to men's eyes;
Would you have titles; kingdoms have their price,
And with this chest you may outbid the mightiest—
What more would you desire?

Adine.
Your love! your love!
Which is more dear to me than name or fame;
I've giv'n up all for you; do not desert me;
Let me wait on you as your servant, slave—
But do not cast me off.

Faus.
I do not, girl.
I lov'd thee dearly—nay, would love thee still,
But that thou wilt be passing, like a shadow,
Betwixt me and my pleasures—And in tears too!
You know I hate these tears; I hate all sadness;
They seem reproaches, and my inward soul
Loathes all that would reproach me.

Adine.
No reproaches—
No—no reproaches—See, I weep no more—
Or only tears of joy, to think that you
Can love me still. I will be any thing
That you would have me; I will be your fairy,
Your merry, laughing, talking, singing fair.
I'll be your shadow, and my pace shall be
E'en as your pace is; I will be your echo,
And still my voice shall sound but to your measure.

Faus.
Why, thou fond, foolish girl—By yon bright sun,
She is as fair as ever.

Adine.
Do you think so?
Do you indeed?

Faus.
Aye, and the voice as sweet
As when she first, in accents all as fine
As the thin whispers of the murmuring leaf,
Sang, more than said, “I love thee, dearest Faustus.”

Adine.
Could I but think so, I would win thee back
As the fair Persian—she whom poets call
The Harem's Light—won back her sultan's love
By her sweet music—I will try it too—
That smile assures me—I will try my spell.
SONG.

Faus.
I'm all thine own! This day our holy church
Shall make our love as pure as 'tis devoted.
And thou, dread pow'r, that wast not made for man,
I do abjure thee.

Enter Mephistophiles.
Faus.
Ha! what brings thee here?
Hence! from my sight! Back to thy realms of fire!
Avaunt!

Meph.
Wheugh! here's a fierce pelting storm of virtue!

Faus.
Avaunt, I say! Avaunt!

Meph.
But hear me first.

Faus.
I will hear nothing—Hence!

Meph.
Well, here comes one
Who will be heard. (retires.)


Enter Montolio.
Mon.
(to Adine)
I grieve to find thee here;
You do not know he is—I had forgot;
It were not well you knew it till I learn
How far he's willing to repair your wrongs.

Adine.
What does this mean?

Mon.
No matter for the present;—
I turn to you, sir.

Faus.
Well, and what to me?
And who are you?

Mon.
My name, Montolio;
I serve the king of Naples.

Faus.
Well, so much
For name and service. Pray you now go on.

Mon.
You've wrong'd this lady in the dearest point
That woman can be wrong'd in.—As the friend
To her lost brother, I demand if you
Will heal that injury by instant marriage?

Adine.
He will, he will.

Faus.
Be silent—If I will not,—
For this sounds like a threat,—how if I will not?

Mon.
I'll right her with my sword!

Faus.
Why then I will not!

Adine.
Faustus—dear Faustus—Set not, I conjure you,
Your life and mine upon so fond a hazard.

Faus.
What! shall I write myself a coward? be
This fellow's plaything—moving as he pleases?
Not I by heaven!

Meph.
Bravo! Bravissimo!

Adine.
For my sake, Faustus! I gave all for you—
For my sake, Faustus.

Faus.
No, not ev'n for thine,—
And yet I love thee dearly.

Mon.
You'll hear from me anon.

Faus.
With all my heart!

Mont.
You, lady, must with me.—

Faus.
Aye, if she chuses,
Not otherwise—must! must! chuse you, Adine?

Adine.
I will not leave my husband!

Faus.
Do not stay
In hope of that; for it shall ne'er be said
Faustus was like your dull, thrice cudgell'd ass,
Moving in fear of what might else befal him.
If you will stay, stay with me in defiance.

Mon.
Must I then speak it? He's your brother's murd'rer!

Adine.
Is this true, Faustus? No; you are no murderer.

Faus.
You're right; I am no murderer; he fell
In fair and equal combat.

Adine.
Not by you?

Faus.
By me.

Adine.
(To Montolio)
Lead me away, sir.

Faus.
How! you leave me?

Adine.
I leave you for the grave. Yet one word, signor;
Ere I go with you, swear upon the cross
To drop this duel.

Mon.
No; I cannot, lady.

Adine.
Then I stay with him.—

Mon.
Noble, noble girl,
I must needs yield to you.—My hand upon it.

Adine.
Farewell, dear Faustus; ev'n in death, dear Faustus,
May you be happier than the poor Adine!

[Exeunt Adine and Montolio.
Faus.
Is it for this I have toil'd—have reach'd a height
Where before me man never stood? For this
Do I command the spirits that themselves
Command the destinies of other men?
How is this, Faustus?

Meph.
You're a cup too low,
That's all; another glass will set all right.

Faus.
You here?

Meph.
The devil never leaves his friends.

Faus.
Her very kindness seem'd like scorn of me,
As if she deem'd her cold moralities
Set her above that mind, which, in its pow'r,
Has made hell tremble.

Meph.
Why in truth she paid
But slight respect to the all-learned Faustus.

Faus.
I'll think of her no more. Give me the wine;
I'll riot in delights; I'll live whole years
Of transport in a minute.

Meph.
Bravely said!

Faus.
There's not a beauty throughout wide Venice
But shall be mine; I will have banquets, too;
A hundred maidens, with no other robe
Than their own flowing tresses, shall serve up,
On plates of amethyst, immortal food;
A hundred others shall present my wine
In diamond goblets; the sweet air shall breathe
The richest perfumes of the eastern rose,
While the sun, stealing thro' a crimson veil,
Sheds a mysterious light upon the beauty
That floats around, till pleasure's self is breathless.

Meph.
Ay, this sounds well: go on in this way still,
And you shall share the sceptre of a king
Greater than he of Persia.

Faus.
Who is he?

Meph.
A friend of mine; he sate full high, and fell
Fullolw; but what of that? Now, Rosolia;
That is an enterprise!

Faus.
How so? how so?

Meph.
She loves another.

Faus.
Whom?

Meph.
Montolio.

Faus.
And that's another cause
For me to love her, or at least to win her.

Meph.
A noble thought that! You are worth my friendship;
You mend amazingly.

Faus.
Away! away!

[Exeunt Faustus and Mephistophiles.

SCENE II.

Rosolia's Apartment in the Count di Casanova's Palace.
[A balcony window opening upon a picturesque part of Venice, terminated by the Adriatic; sun-set gradually deepening into night.
Enter Rosolia.
Ros.
'Tis close upon the appointed minute—
It is Montolio! true to the instant
Of love's promise. Dear Montolio!
[Rushes to the window, sees Faustus entering, and retreats alarmed.
Ha! who art thou?
What dost thou want?

Faus.
Yourself, fair lady.
You expected a lover, did you not?

Ros.
(Half aside.)
Has Montolio, then, betray'd me?

Faus.
Not so;
Montolio's a right gallant spirit—somewhat
To forward perhaps, at times,
In another's love affairs;—no matter;
He knows not of this appointment; 'twas mine,
By me contrived and made; and here I am,
Young, ardent, fond, made up of passion.

Ros.
This is some madman, sure.

Faus.
Madman or not, I love thee.
Upon thy ivory brow
The amorous Cupid sits enthroned, and thence
He shoots, with deadly aim, his burning shafts.

[Approaches, and attempts to clasp her.
Ros.
Unhand me, villain!

Faus.
Hush!—not so loud; you'll spoil all else!—be still.
If love's submissive pleadings please thee best,
I'll kneel,
And pour forth tears and sighs. I care not, I,
Which way I win thy love, so I but win it.
Trifle no longer with this moment, then,
For mine thou must and shalt be.

Ros.
Off, and avoid me! Oh, Montolio!
Why hast thou thus deserted or betray'd me?

[Weeps.
Faus.
Ha! tears!—and of true affection! Faustus, hold! (Aside.)

Be calm, sweet one, and hear me:
Who or what I am it skills not to be told;
But I loved thee—that is—thy charms had wrought
Upon my fancy; and if I will'd it,
There is no human force or means could save thee
From my passion's wildest mood.

Ros.
What art thou?

Faus.
Call all thy household up, and with a sign,
(If they attempt to raise alarm) I'll charm
Their tongues to dumbness—fix them like statues,
Rooted to earth—bearing thee the while,
Thro' all opposing things, a thousand leagues,
O'er sea and land, before thine eyes had wink'd.

Ros.
What is't you mean?

Faus.
I came hither, in recklessness of spirit,
To win thee to my pleasures—I confess it!
And had one spark of lightness to love's faith
Lurk'd in thy heart, pow'r had been given me
To fan it to a flame, in whose destructive glow
We both had revell'd. Oh, Adine! (Aside.)


Ros.
He seems
A strange fearful being! would he were gone.

Wag.
(without) is heard crying
Help, help, help!

Ros.

Good heaven, the street's in uproar, and the
noise will alarm my father. Pray, sir, begone; should
you be seen

[Goes pointing him to window, and shrieks.
Hah! a man is on the ladder!

Wag.
(without.)

Help, help, or I'm caught.

Faus.

Fear nothing, lady; I'll be at hand, to turn
your fears to safety.

[He withdraws. A further noise, as of pursuit, is heard in the street, and Wagner crying out as ascending.
Wag.

Somebody help me up and in, for heaven's
sake, or I am caught.

Ros.

That voice rather seems to fear than threaten
danger.

[Stands aside.
[Wagner scrambles up, and tumbles over the balcony, in great alarm.
Wag.

Thank my lucky stars, I'm in at last; and
thank my legs that got such a start of them. I'll make
sure of the ladder, though, and secure my retreat.
(Unfixes it.)
Zounds, it has dropp'd over. No matter.
Heugh; how they ran me. What with the fright
and the flight, I'm completely out of breath! I wonder
whose house I've tumbled into. Hey! (Turns and sees Rosolia.)

Quam formosa! what a lovely
creature!

Ros.

What is it you seek in this house?

Wag.

Vocula dulcis—gentle of speech! and what
eyes!—black, bright, and full, like my ink bottle.

Ros.

Am I to be savoured with an answer, sir?
who are you, and what do you seek?

Wag.

I'm a poor scholar from Germany—and I
seek shelter.

Ros.

From what or whom?

Wag.

From an infernal long sword, and a parcel
of long legs that were in full pursuit after me. A hue-and-cry
followed us, but I kept the start; and seeing
a ladder at your window, and thinking all fair at carnival
time, I made bold to scramble up—tumble in,
and here I am.

Ros.

A lover, and a coward.

Wag.

Something very like it, my lady; I was bred
scholastice, non bellicosé! books, not battles, are my
business. I have plus leporis quam leonis—rather
more of the hare than the lion in me.

Ros.

Well, sir, your danger for the present seems
past; you will, therefore, depart.

Wag.

You must let me out at the back-door, then,
ma'am; for I unfix'd the ladder to prevent pursuit, and
dropp'd it into the street.

Ros.

You must leap down.

Wag.

What over the balcony!

Ros.

'Tis nothing.

Wag.

Nothing! oh, dear! Consider—my bones—
my brains! if I knock them out! pity a poor scholar!
if you break his head, he's a bankrupt.

[Kneels down and speaks in great terror; a knocking at the door.
Casa.
(without)

Rosolia.

Ros.

Here's my father! up, sir, up, and away, before
he enters.

Wag.

I'll be hanged if I do over the balcony, for
fifty fathers.

[Enter Casanova and sees him on his knees, and Rosolia endeavouring to raise him.
Casa.

Who the devil have you here, Rosolia, on his
knees to you?

Wag.
(looking at Casa.)

No—why is it?—It is.

Casa.

Confound it—the very fellow—

Wag.

Who caught you on your knees; and now,
you catch me on mine, so we are like—“par nobile.”
I've got the lumbago; give me a hand—hem!

Casa.

Hush! not a word of that. There. (Lifts him up.)

Ros.
(Aside)

How odd!—my father seems to know
him.

Casa.

Rosolia, child; how came this fellow into
your apartment?

Ros.
(Aside)

What shall I say? Why, sir, as I
was at my window, I was alarmed by a person hastily
ascending the balcony, who has concealed himself
somewhere about the room, when this gentleman followed
with a party of friends in hot pursuit.

Wag.
(Aside)

That's true; my friends were in hot
pursuit. What's she at?

Ros.

And mounting by their means, I suppose, entered
this room in a violent state of agitation.

Wag.

And that's true; I was in great agitation.

Casa.

I can discover no one.

Wag.

No, no, he's off, I warrant him—glad enough
to escape. A coward—a runaway—a— (As he is going off, Faustus stands before him, and Wagner runs back across the stage.)

Curse him, he's not gone
after all; then I'm in a pretty mess.

Ros.
(Aside to Faustus.)

Why have you appeared
—could you not have gone?

Faus.
(Aside to her.)

Fear nothing; retire!

[Exit Rosolia.
Casa.
(slapping Wagner on the back.)

Now, sir,
here's your man; and by his looks a proper and a gallant
gentleman:—you may decide your difference at
once.

Wag.
(Not looking towards Faustus.)

May I?—
Yes, certainly; lead the way, signors! “I præ? Sequar”
—I'll be at your heels— (Aside)
—and take to
my own as soon as I'm out.

Faus.

I am ready for you, sir.

Wag.
(Aside.)

'Tis more than I am for you.

Casa.

Come quick, sir.

Wag.

Never be in a hurry; I always take my time
and go coolly to this sort of work.

Casa.

You do, indeed; and if coolness be a sign of
courage, you have plenty of it. Come.

Wag.

Well, I'll pray and wink; and if I open my
eyes in another world, farewell, a poor scholar, that's
all. “Mors omnibus est communis.” (Draws.)
After
all, if I should find out upon trial I'm not a coward!
Necessity, they say, makes cowards brave. [Advances timidly.

Casa.

Zounds, sir, look up; your point is wide.

Faus.

Aye, Wagner, look up.

Wag.
(Recovering.)

Wagner! why who?—what
—Magister meus!—my dear master! (Throws down his sword, and runs into his arms.)

Quomodo vales
—a lucky meeting this! Sors beatissima!

Casa.

Ho, ho; have I the magician Faustus under
my roof?

Wag.

You have; and his renowned and learned
famulus, or pupil—that's I—Karl Bartolomus Wagner.

Casa.

Then, master and pupil shall find a little work
for the inquisition.

Faus.

Ha, ha, ha!

Casa.

Do you laugh! Ho! within. Suffer none
to pass out; and dispatch a messenger to the holy office
with the intelligence, that I have secured the magician
Faustus, and his accomplice. Now, sirs, you must
deal with the devil, indeed, if ye escape.

Faus.

Ha, ha, ha! Fear nothing, Wagner.

Wag.

Nothing, now. Sub auspice tenero—under
your shield I know I'm safe.

Faus.
(Speaking at the wing in a low voice.)

Ho,
Mephistophiles!

Meph.
(Without.)
Master—thy will.

Faus.
Seize Rosolia, slave, and steep
Her senses in a sudden sleep.
To Milan bear us, and ere the morn,
To fondness for me turn her scorn.

Meph.
What more?

FINALE & CHORUS.
Faustus, Wagner, Casa, &c.
Faus.
To 'maze their senses, mock their eyes,
Exact in visage, form, and size,
Bid numbers like ourselves arise;
Fall darkness—come delusion,
While we escape in the confusion.

Casa.
A plague on this darkness, so thick has it grown,
A friend from a foe can no longer be known.

Faus., Wag.
Night's deep mantle o'er us throwing,
We will plague you ere we're going.
Ha, ha, ha!

Casa.
Hark! they laugh—and now they're stealing
Gently to their purposed flight;
Cursed mischief, perhaps, concealing
Under cover of the night.

Faus. & Wag.
Ha, ha, ha!

Casa.
Yes; they hope to fly, 'tis plain,
But the lights their plan revealing,
All their hope will then be vain.
Ho! without, there!

Servants.
We are ready,
To our duty all are steady,
Now for flight as they're preparing,
Come we, flaming torches bearing.

Faus. & Fiends.
Ha, ha, ha!

Casa.
Zounds, who are these?—my senses they bother—
Fiends! there's no knowing one from the other.

Officers of the Inquisition
without.
We come from the holy tribunal.

Casa.
The inquisitors—gladly I go to admit them.

Faus. & Fiends.
Ha, ha, ha.

Casa., &c.
Magic wild, and dire delusion
Rack our senses with confusion;
Whirl our giddy brains around,
Amaze our eyes, our hearts confound.