 | Faustus, A Dramatic Mystery ; The Bride of Corinth ; The First Walpurgis Night |  |
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On a low hearth a large caldron is on the fire—in the thick smoke are discovered several strange figures. A female Cat-ape is sitting beside the caldron, to skim it, and take care it does not boil over. The male Cat-ape, with the young ones, sits near, warming himself;—fantastic articles of furniture, suitable to the place, seen hanging from the walls, &c.
Faustus and Mephistopheles.
Faustus.
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?
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Now do I recognise my friend's good sense;—
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.
Faustus.
I will learn it.
Mephistopheles.
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.
Faustus.
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.
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We must recur then to the witch.
Faustus.
Why so?
—What's the particular use of an old hag
In the matter? Can't you cook the draught yourself?
Mephistopheles.
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
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;
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On the chimney stone on the top of the house!
Mephistopheles.
Will she stay
Long away?
Apes.
'Twixt the time she comes and goes,
We can scarcely warm our toes.
Mephistopheles.
What think you of these dear young creatures?
Faustus.
All makes me sick—voice, form, and features!
Mephistopheles.
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.
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And most men, without knowing, chew it.
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;—the witch
Is made honest, if made rich.
Give me gold, and by that rule,
Who will say I am a fool?
Mephistopheles.
As the Ape talks of gold, see his lips growing watery,
I wish we could get him a share in the Lottery.
The Old Ape
(while the young Cat-apes are playing and rolling round a large bowl).
Such is the world!
So is it twirled,
Now rolling onward,
Now rolling downward,
Ceaselessly, restlessly,
Still does it spin;
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And broken by little,
Glimmering, shimmering,
Hollow within—
Living am I—
Stop, my dear son,
Thy sporting have done,
Think thou must die!
All is clay,
And must crumble away!
Mephistopheles.
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.
[Runs to the Female, and makes her look through
it at Mephistopheles.
With this eye-glass thus we view him;
Raise it thus, and thus look through him.
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?
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?
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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—
Mephistopheles.
Unmannerly wittol,
Be quiet a little.
Ape.
Be brisk—take the whisk,—and sit down on the settle.
[Forces Mephistopheles to sit down.
Faustus
(who has been all this time before a glass, now approaching, and now standing off from it).
What is this that I see—how heavenly fair
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,
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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?
Mephistopheles.
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!
[Faustus continues looking into the glass— Mephistopheles, lolling on the settle, and with the whisk in his hand, continues speaking.
Here on my kingly throne I sit me down,
With sceptre too—I only want a crown.
The Apes
(who have been playing all kind of fantastic gambols, bring Mephistopheles a crown with loud acclamations).
Monarch proud—
With sweat and blood
Smear it—wear it—
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'Tis done—'twas to be;
We speak and we see—
We hearken—we listen—
We rhyme and we reason.
Faustus
(still before the glass).
Alas! I feel my senses leaving me.
Mephistopheles.
And stranger still, even my head's growing giddy!
Apes.
We have words, and we can link
Syllables that chime and chink;
Sense unsought—thus is caught;—
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.
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(as before).
My heart's on fire—let us depart.
Mephistopheles.
This is the true poetic art—
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 streams up the chimney. —The Witch comes down through the flame, with 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?
[Seeing Faustus and Mephistopheles.
And who are ye?
What brings ye here?
Who sent ye here?
May fiery pain
Burn bone and brain!
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Mephistopheles
(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!
Nothing but a frolic funny!
Keeping time, old carrion odious,
Fitly with thy voice melodious!
[The Witch steps back with rage and astonishment.
Knowest thou no more than that o'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?
Smash 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?
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Pardon, my Lord, this rough salute;
I do not see the cloven foot,—
And where are your two ravens?—Where—
Mephistopheles.
Enough, old fool,—for once I spare;—
'Tis long since we have met, and strange
Has been, in such a time, 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;
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—
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Avail themselves of the invention.
The Witch.
Satan again—my own old boy,
Once more with me!—I'll die with joy.
Mephistopheles.
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?
Mephistopheles.
It has been too much used,
And sounds like something in the fairy tales;
Is so familiar, that men deem it fable;
Men believe nothing now above the level
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;
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See here—I never go without it.
[Struts about with pompous gestures.
The Witch
(laughing immoderately).
Ha! ha!—this is so like you—is so clever—
You're after all, the same gay rascal ever!
Mephistopheles
(to Faustus.)
This, every day's experience teaches,
Is the true way to deal with witches.
The Witch.
What, gentlemen, would you desire
To drink?
Mephistopheles.
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 Faustus.)
Its strength is doubled every year!
The Witch.
Most willingly—you need not ask
A second time—here is a flask,
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You'll not find any smell remain.
Here—take a dram—but if I give it
To him—you know he can't outlive it
An hour, unless some charm protect
His life from the assured effect.
Mephistopheles.
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—
Fill high the cup, 'twill do no harm.
[The Witch, with extraordinary gestures, describes a circle, and places strange things within 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 Faustus to approach.
Faustus
(to Mephistopheles).
No, no! I'm sick of the whole scene!
What good is it? what can it mean?
These raving gestures? and this rapid
Torrent of nonsense? filthy—vapid
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Before; and hated it enough!
Mephistopheles.
'Tis pure professional farce—mere fudge—
You should not be so hard a judge!
She is but acting the physician;
This hocus-pocus exhibition
Assists the cure—makes the draught operate
With good effect, and at the proper rate.
[She makes Faustus enter the circle.
The Witch
(with 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,
Then all is complete.
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And Ten is None,
This is the Witch's One-times-one.
Faustus.
She seems in earnest, old deceiver!
—How like the ravings of a fever!
Mephistopheles.
There is an endless volume of this stuff—
I ought to know it—I've lost time enough
Puzzling it out—for downright contradiction
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!
Witch.
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.
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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.
Mephistopheles.
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!
[The Witch, with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a cup: as Faustus raises it to his mouth, a light flame rises.
Off with it fast—why should you fear it?
—Once down 'twill warm your heart and cheer it.
How's this? my friend, and much the same
As one of us—afraid of flame?
[The Witch dissolves the circle. Faustus steps out.
Mephistopheles
(to Faustus).
Now! out at once! you must not rest!
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(to Faustus).
Much good may it do! (Aside.)
I hope the best!
Mephistopheles
(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.
Mephistopheles
(to Faustus).
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.
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Within, and in the spirit works.
Faustus.
Once more!—one other look into the glass!—
Fair form—too fair more than a form to be!
Mephistopheles.
Come! come! no form the beauties can surpass,
That soon in living woman thou shalt see!
(Aside.)
With this draught in him he will meet
A Helena in every street!
| Faustus, A Dramatic Mystery ; The Bride of Corinth ; The First Walpurgis Night | |