University of Virginia Library

PROMENADE.
Faustus walking up and down in thought—to him
Mephistopheles.
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!

Faustus.
What ails thee now? What pinches thee so sore?
A face like that I never saw before.

Mephistopheles.
I'd damn myself to everlasting evil,
But that I am myself the devil.

Faustus.
This frantic scene—what can it mean?

Mephistopheles.
Think, only think, that splendid set
Of pearls, procured for Margaret,
A priest has made his own of them.
The 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, snuffling with suspicious nose,
Exploring through the house she goes,
On the scent, to ascertain
What is holy, what profane.
Curse her! she smelt no good event
From Margaret's rich ornament.
“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:
Why, 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;
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.”

Faustus.
That this is false each day evinces,
Or true as well of Jews and princes.

Mephistopheles.
On this, he swept into his pocket
Ear-rings and bracelet, chain and locket,
And made no more of pearls and casket,
Than if he pocketed a basket
Of nuts,—then treats them with a lecture
On vanity,—states his conjecture
Upon the uses of affliction,
And leaves them with his benediction.

Faustus.
And Margaret—

Mephistopheles.
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.

Faustus.
Poor thing! her grief goes to my heart!
Bring her more jewels—come—be smart—
The first, coarse common things were they.

Mephistopheles
(in affected vexation).
Mere trinkets flung in sport away!
—My toil is nothing, nor the value
Of what I give!—

Faustus.
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 off her attention—
Come—come—you're dull as water gruel,—
Up—up—away for chain and jewel!

Mephistopheles.
[Faustus exit.

[Exit.