University of Virginia Library

THE STREET.
Faustus and Mephistopheles.
Faustus.
How fare you? goes it swimmingly on and swift?

Mephistopheles.
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 Mrs. Schwerdtlein'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.

Faustus.
All promises well so far.

Mephistopheles.
But we are asked
For something in return.

Faustus.
That's reasonable—
As one good turn, they say, deserves another.

Mephistopheles.
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.

Faustus.
Mighty fine doings! what a pretty jaunt
You have contrived for us!

Mephistopheles.
Sancta simplicitas!
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.

Faustus.
Is this your plan?
If you have nothing better to propose,
The scheme is at an end.

Mephistopheles.
Oh, holy man!
Is it there you are now? Doctor, is this your scruple?
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, and heart undaunted?
Yet, if you did but own the truth, your conscience
Must tell you—does it not?—you know no more
Of all these matters than of Schwerdtlein's death.

Faustus.
Thou art, and wert, and thou wilt ever be
A liar and sophist.

Mephistopheles.
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.

Faustus.
Yes, and such oath is true—

Mephistopheles.
—As any other;—
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 recognise as true?

Faustus.
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—
Eternal—yes, eternal—say you that
Language like this is a Satanic lie?

Mephistopheles.
Yes I am right.

Faustus.
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, when I acknowledge it.