University of Virginia Library

PRISON.
Faustus
(with a bunch of keys 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!
Onward, irresolute!—this mad delaying
Keeps death a lingerer here—secures his prey.

[He takes hold of the lock.—Singing heard from within. Margaret's voice.
Song.
My mother! my mother!
The wanton woman—My mother hath slain me.
My father, inhuman, For supper hath ta'en me—
My little sister hath, one by one,
Laid together each small white bone,
'Mong almond blossoms to sleep in the cool;
And I woke me a wood-bird beautiful.
Fly away, fly away, all the long summer-day,
Little bird of the woods, fly away! fly away!

Faustus
(opening the wicket).
She feels not that her love is listening—
Hears but the chains that clank, and the straw rustling.

[He enters.
Margaret
(hiding her face in the straw of her bed).
Woe! woe! they come! they come!—death, bitter death!

Faustus
(in a low voice).
Hush! hush! 'tis I who come to rescue thee!

Margaret
(rolling herself at his feet).
Art thou a man? Have pity upon me.

Faustus.
Hush! hush! these screams and shrieks will wake the keepers.

[He takes hold of the chains to unlock them.
Margaret
(throwing 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?
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 no 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!
Spare me—I never saw thy face before.

Faustus.
How can I bear to see these sufferings?

Margaret.
I know that I am wholly in thy power—
Only permit me once to give my breast
To this poor child of mine: all the long night
It lay upon 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 more will I be gay and happy:
And they sing songs about me—'twas ill done;
It was ill done—so the old ballad runs.
Who told them I was meant in it?

Faustus.
Thy lover, Margaret, kneels at thy feet;
He comes to open these sad prison gates.

Margaret.
Let us kneel down, and call upon the saints.
See! see! beneath us hell boils up—the devil
Is raving there below in hideous rage!

Faustus
(in a low tone of voice).
Margaret—Margaret.

Margaret
(with eager attention).
That is my love's voice.
[Springs up—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.
I'll 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!

Faustus.
'Tis I.

Margaret.
'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 used to wait for thee.

Faustus.
Come, come with me.

Margaret.
Oh, stay a little while—
Some moments more—I love to stay with thee!

Faustus.
Haste, haste! ah, linger not,
One moment more—a moment's lingering now
Will cost—we cannot tell how much.

Margaret.
How! what!
And hast thou then forgot that kiss of thine,
My love? So short a time away, and yet
To have forgotten all those signs of love!
Why do I feel so sad upon thy neck?
Oh, there was once a time when all thy words,
And every glance of thine, seemed heaven to me.
And warmly didst thou press me to thy heart!
Oh, let me feel once more that loved embrace!
Alas! thy lips are cold and dumb—ah, where,
Where is thy love? Who robbed me of thy love?

Faustus.
Come, come—take courage, follow me, my love.
I love thee with unutterable love;
But follow me,—this one—this one request.

Margaret.
And is it thou, and art thou surely Faustus?

Faustus.
Yes, yes! But come!

Margaret.
And thou wilt break my chains!
And thou wilt take me to thy arms again!
How is it thou dost not shudder at my sight?
And knowest thou whom thou art delivering?

Faustus.
Come, come!—the darkness of the night is fading.

Margaret.
My mother, I have murdered her—my child,
I drowned my child—and was it not thy child,
Thy child and mine? 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? Ah, sheath thy bloody sword;
Ah, hide it from me.

Faustus.
Think not of the past;
That which is done, is done. Come, this delay
Is death to me!

Margaret.
No; thou must yet remain,
Till I describe to thee the graves, which thou
To-morrow must see made: the best place give
To my poor mother; near her lay my brother;
And by their side, a little space away,
Place me; and on my right breast lay my child;
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 repelling my embrace;
And yet thou art the same—and yet thy looks
Are good and kind, as they have ever been.

Faustus.
Oh, if thou feelest that 'tis I, come, come.

Margaret.
Come! Whither?

Faustus.
From this prison to thy freedom.

Margaret.
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—
And art thou leaving me? may I go with thee?

Faustus.
Come, come; the gates are open, only come.

Margaret.
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.

Faustus.
I will be with thee.

Margaret
(wildly).
Fly, fly,
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,
He lies in the pond.
Loiter not, linger not,
Still does he stir
With the motion of life.
His little hands struggle
More faintly and faintly,
Rescue him! rescue him!

Faustus.
Recall thy wandering mind—thy life's at stake.
One step, and thou art free.

Margaret.
Oh, that we once had left yon 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!

Faustus.
She listens not;
Words have no weight with her; there is no way,
But forcibly to bear her hence.

Margaret.
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 thing my love asked me, willingly.

Faustus.
Day dawns—oh, hasten hence, my love! my love!

Margaret.
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; 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!

Faustus.
Oh, that I never had been born!

Mephistopheles
(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
Of the grey morning.

Margaret.
What shape is that which rises from the earth?
'Tis he, 'tis he, oh, send him from this place;
What wants he here? Oh, what can bring him here?
Why does he tread on consecrated ground?
He comes for me.

Faustus.
Oh, thou shalt live, my love.

Margaret.
Upon the judgment-throne of God, I call;
On God I call in humble supplication.

Mephistopheles
(to Faustus).
Come, or I leave thee here to share her fate.

Margaret.
Father of heaven, have mercy on thy child.
Ye angels, holy hosts, keep watch around me.
Henry—I am afraid to look at thee.

Mephistopheles.
Come—she is judged!

Voice
(from above).
Is saved.

Mephistopheles
(to Faustus).
Hither to me!

[Disappears with Faustus.
Voice
(from within dying away).
Henry! Henry!