University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Faust and Mephistopheles.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
What's all the noise about? Learned sir, I stand
Most humble servant here at your command.

FAUST.
'Tis thus, then, that the poodle drops his mask!
A travelling pedagogue? in verity,
Most strange and ludicrous catastrophe!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
In sooth, sir, you have ta'en me hard to task,
And made me sweat most valiantly.

FAUST.
How nam'st thou thee?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Such question comes not well
From one who so despises the mere letter,
Whose thoughts, unbound by the material fetter,
With Being's inmost substance only dwell.

FAUST.
Yes, but, with such as you, the outward name
Serves as an index to the inward frame;
Destroyer, God of Flies, the Adversary ,
Such names their own interpretation carry.
But say, who art thou?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
A portion am I of that primal Will
Which still produces good, though planning evil still.

FAUST.
You speak in riddles; the interpretation?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
I am the Spirit of Negation:
And justly so; for all that is produced
Deserves to nothingness to be reduced.
'Twere better, thus, that there were no production.
You see, then, that my province is destruction,
And all that men call wickedness and sin,
The native element I live within.

FAUST.
Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet seem'st a whole to me.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
The modest truth I speak to thee,
Though man, the little world of his soul
Is apt to figure as a whole.
I am a portion of that part which once
Was all—a portion of old Night,
From which was born, by most accursed chance,
In primal ages the rebellious Light,
Which now disputeth with its mother Night
In ceaseless strife the world's high sovereignty,
And yet may not succeed; for striving still
To tear itself from clogging matter free,
It cleaves to body fast against its will.
From body streams it, body doth it paint,
By body is its simple substance rent,
And thus ere long, I hope, shall rebel Light,
With body ruined lie in endless night.

FAUST.
Hold! now I know thy worthy duties all!
Unable to annihilate wholesale,
Thy mischief now thou workest by retail.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
And even thus, my progress is but small.
This something, the plump world, which stands
Opposed to nothing, still ties my hands,
And spite of all the ground that I seem winning,
Remains as firm as in the beginning;
With storms and tempests, and earthquakes and burnings,
The earth still enjoys its evenings and mornings,
And the accursed fry of brute and human clay,
On them my noblest skill seems worse than thrown away.
How many thousands have I not buried!
Yet still a new fresh blood is hurried
Through other veins, with life reborn,
That mocks the work of death to scorn,
And almost makes me sheer despair.
The earth, the water, and the air,
The moist, the dry, the hot, the cold,
A thousand germs of life unfold;
And had I not of flame made reservation,
I had no portion left in the creation.

FAUST.
And thus thou seekest to oppose
The genial power, from which all life and motion flows,
Against Existence' universal chain,
Clenching thy icy devil's fist in vain!
'Twere time, strange son of Chaos, now to try
Your hand at something that might bring more gain.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
The thing deserves attention certainly;
We'll speak of that when I come back again.
But for the present, with your leave,
I crave permission to be gone.

FAUST.
I see not why you ask my leave,
The liberty, methinks, is all your own.
Now that I know you, you may visit me
Whene'er you please, with ish and entry free.
Here is the door, there is the window, and
A chimney, if you choose it, is at hand.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Let me speak plain! there is a small affair,
That, without your assistance, bars my way,
The goblin-foot upon the threshold there—

FAUST.
The pentagram stands in your way!
Ha! tell me then, thou son of hell,
If this be such a powerful spell
To keep thee in; why kept it not thee out?
What could have cheated such a powerful spirit?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
That is not hard to say, 'tis not well drawn, look near it;
The farthest corner, that which is turn'd out
Toward the door, is left a little open.

FAUST.
Sufficient for a poodle-dog to hop in!
Here Fortune hit the nail upon the head;
Thus were the devil Faustus' prisoner made!
Chance is not always blind, as people say.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
The thoughtless cur saw nothing in its way.
But now the matter looks more serious;
The devil cannot move out of the house.

FAUST.
There is the window—'twere no weighty matter
For one like you adown the wall to clatter.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
It is a law by which all spirits are bound,
Wherever they creep in, there too they must creep out;
I crept in at the door, at the door I must creep out.

FAUST.
Say'st thou that laws even in hell are found?
Thus might one profit by the powers of evil,
And make an honest bargain with the devil.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
The devil, sir, makes no undue exaction,
And pays what he has promised to a fraction;
But this affair requires consideration,
We'll leave it for some future conversation.
Meanwhile, most learned sir, with due submission,
Hence to withdraw, again I crave permission.

FAUST.
I've scarce exchanged a single word with you,
Give us your news before you bid adieu.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
I'll answer thee at length some other day;
At present, I beseech thee, let me loose.

FAUST.
I laid no trap to snare thee in the way,
Thyself did'st thrust thy head into the noose;
Whoso hath caught the devil, hold him fast!
Such lucky chance returns not soon again.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
If 'tis your pleasure so, I shall remain,
But on condition that the time be pass'd
In manner worthy of such company.
And, Doctor Faust consent to see,
Some specimens of magic art from me.

FAUST.
The fancy pleases me. Thou may'st commence,
So that thy juggling tricks but please the sense.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Thou shalt, in this one hour, my friend,
More for thy noblest senses gain,
Than in the year's dull formal train,
From its beginning to its end.
The songs the gentle spirits sing thee,
The lovely visions that they bring thee,
Are not an empty juggling show.
On thine ear sweet sounds shall fall,
Odorous breezes round thee blow,
And thy raptured senses all
Keener thrills of joy shall know.
No lengthened prelude need we here,
Sing, spirit-imps that hover near!

SPIRITS.
Vanish ye murky
Old arches away!
Through the blue ether
Shine Heaven's ray!
And be the dank clouds
Melted away!
Brighter the stars now
Gem Heaven's crown,
And purer suns now
Softer look down.
Myriads of spirits,
A swift-moving throng,
In beauty ethereal,
Are waving along,
And the soul follows
With longings of fire;
The fluttering garlands
That deck their attire,
Cover the meadows,
Cover the bowers,
Where love-enwrapt souls
Spend the glad hours.
Bower on bower!
The shoots of the vine,
With the leaves of the fig-tree,
Their tendrils entwine!
Clusters of ripe grapes,
Bright-blushing all,
Into the wine-press
Heavily fall;
Forth from their fountains
Red foaming they go,
And over sparkling
Pebbles they flow;
They spread into broad lakes
Around the green slope,
And their deep flood
Is the fisherman's hope.
And the birds of the ether
Drink joy from the gale,
To the realms of the sun
On glad pinions they sail;
They sail on swift wings
To the isles of the blest,
On the soft swelling waves
That are cradled to rest;
Where we hear the glad spirits
Exultingly sing,
As o'er the green meadows
Fleet-bounding they spring:
Disporting in free air,
A numberless throng,
Shooting like meteors
The mountains along;
Some there are swimming
Over the seas,
Hovering others
On wings of the breeze;
In life's joyful web
Intermingling they twine,
'Mid the path of the starlets
So lovely that shine.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

(Exit.)
FAUST.
(awakening from his trance.)
Am I then still the dupe of jugglery?
And leaves this vision once again no trace,
That I spake with the devil face to face,
And that a poodle ran away from me?