University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

A Walk.
Faust going up and down thoughtfully, then enter Mephistopheles.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
By all the pangs of love! by all the blasts of hell!
Or any other curse, if curse there be more fell!

FAUST.
How now Mephisto? what the devil's wrong?
I ne'er beheld a face one half so long!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
But that I am a devil myself, I'd sell
Both soul and body on the spot to hell!

FAUST.
I verily believe you've lost your wits!
Beseems it then Satanic dignity,
To fall into such wild fantastic fits,
Outrageous more than bedlamite may be?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Only conceive! the box of rare gewgaws
For Margaret got, is in a parson's claws!
The thing came to the mother's sight,
Who soon suspected all was not right:
The woman has got a most delicate nose,
That snuffling through the prayer-book goes,
And seldom scents a thing in vain,
If it be holy or profane;
Your jewels, she was not long in guessing,
Were not like to bring a blessing.
My child, quoth she, ill-gotten gear
Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood;
We'll give it to Mary-mother dear,
And she will feed us with heavenly food!
Margaret look'd blank—'tis hard, thought she,
To put a God-send away from me,
And surely godless was he never
Who lodg'd it in the press so clever.
The mother then brought in the priest;
He quickly understood the jest,
And his eyes water'd at the sight.
Good dame, quoth he, you have done right!
The prize is his who wins the fight.—
The Church is a most dainty lady,
And her stomach holds good store,
Has swallowed lands on lands already,
And, still unglutted, craves for more;
The Church alone, my ladies dear,
Can digest ill-gotten gear.

FAUST.
That is a universal fashion—Jew.
And King, and Kaiser have it too.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Then ring and ear-ring, and necklace, and casket,
Like a bundle of toad-stools away he bore;
Thanked her no less, and thanked her no more,
Than had it been so many nuts in a basket.
On heavenly treasures then held an oration—
Much, of course, to their edification.

FAUST.
And Margaret?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Sits now in restless mood,
Knows neither what she would, nor what she should,
Thinks on the trinkets night and day,
And on him who gave them, more.

FAUST.
Sweet love! her grief doth vex me sore.
Mephisto, mark well what I say!
Get her another set straightway!
The first were not so very fine.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
O yes! with you all things are children's play!

FAUST.
And recollect that this affair is mine!
Throw thee oft in her neighbour's way.
Be not a devil of milk and water,
And for another gift go cater.

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Yes, gracious sir! most humbly I obey.

(Exit Faust.)
MEPHISTOPHELES.
(solus.)
Such love-sick fools as these would blow
Sun, moon, and stars, like vilest stuff,
To nothing, with a single puff,
To make their lady-love a show!