University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Martha's Garden.
Margaret and Faust.
MARGARET.
Promise me, Henry!

FAUST.
What I can.

MARGARET.
Now come! of your religion let me hear;
I know thou art a most kind-hearted man,
But as to thy belief I rather fear—

FAUST.
Leave that, my child! thou know'st how much I love thee;
I'd give my last life's blood to serve thy need,
No man on earth can charge me with the wish
To rob him of his church, or of his creed.

MARGARET.
That's not enough; you must believe it too!

FAUST.
Must I?

MARGARET.
Alas! that I might work some change on you!
Not even the holy mass do you revere.

FAUST.
I do revere it.

MARGARET.
Yes, but without desire.
At mass and at confession, too, I fear,
Thou hast not shewn thyself this many a year.
Dost thou believe on God?

FAUST.
My love, who dares aspire
To say he doth believe on God?
May'st ask thy priests and sages all,
Their answer seems like mockery to fall
Upon the asker's ear.

MARGARET.
Then thou dost not believe?

FAUST.
Misunderstand me not, thou sweetest face!
Who dares pronounce his name?
And who confess—
I do believe in Him?
What heart hath felt him?
And who dares presume
To say—I do believe Him not?
The All-embracer,
The All-upholder,
Grasps and upholds He not
Thee, me, Himself?
Doth not the Heaven vault itself above thee?
Stands not the Earth's foundations firm beneath thee?
And climb not, friendly looking down,
Up Heaven's slope th'eternal stars?
Gaze not our eyes into each other?
And feel'st thou not an innate force propelling
Thy tide of life to head and heart,
A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling,
Moves visibly invisible beside thee?
Go fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness,
And when thy soul exulteth in this feeling,
Then call it what thou wilt,
Heart! Happiness! Love! God!
I have no name by which I might denote it!
Feeling is all in all:
Name is but smoke and sound,
Enshrouding heaven's glow.

MARGARET.
All that appears most pious and profound;
Much of the same our parson says,
Only he clothes it in a different phrase.

FAUST.
All places speak it forth,
All hearts, from furthest South to furthest North,
Proclaim the tale divine,
Each in its proper speech;
Wherefore not I in mine?

MARGARET.
When thus you speak it does not seem so bad,
And yet is your condition still most sad:
Unless you are a Christian all is vain.

FAUST.
Sweet love!

MARGARET.
Henry, it gives me pain,
And long hath given me, that I should see
The man I love so in such company.

FAUST.
How so?

MARGARET.
The man, whom thou hast made thy mate,
Deep in my inmost soul I hate;
Nothing in all my life hath made me smart
So much as his disgusting leer.
His face stabs like a dagger through my heart!

FAUST.
Sweet doll! thou hast no cause to fear.

MARGARET.
It makes my blood to freeze when he comes near.
I have a kindly feeling for most men,
But as to see thy face I long,
So shrink I back from him with instinct pain.
I hold him for a thorough knave to boot!
May God forgive me if I do him wrong!

FAUST.
Such owls one cannot always do without.

MARGARET.
With men like him I would have nought to do!
As often as he shews him here,
He looks in at the door with such a scornful leer,
Half angry too;
'Tis plain he feels no sympathy at all
With any thing that breathes, and one can see
It written on his forehead legibly,
He never yet hath lov'd a single soul.
Within thy arm I feel so free,
So warm, so yielded up to thee,
But his approach ties up my inmost soul.

FAUST.
O thou prophetic angel!

MARGARET.
This overpowers me so,
That, when his icy foot doth cross the door,
I feel as if I could not love thee more.
When he is here, too, I could never pray,
And this consumes my very heart away:
Speak, Henry, is it not the same with thee?

FAUST.
Nay, thou indulgest an antipathy!

MARGARET.
I must be gone.

FAUST.
Oh! may it never be
That I may spend one quiet hour with thee,
One single little hour, and breast on breast,
And soul on soul, with panting love, be press'd?

MARGARET.
Alas! did I but sleep alone!
I'd leave the door unbarr'd this very night;
But my good mother sleeps so soundly not,
And overheard she our delight,
Then were I dead upon the spot.

FAUST.
Sweet angel, that need little trouble you.
There is a juice, whose soothing power can steep
Her senses in a slumber soft and deep;
Three drops mixed with her evening draught will do.

MARGARET.
I would adventure this and more for you.
Of course, there's nothing hurtful in the phial?

FAUST.
If so, would I advise the trial?

MARGARET.
Thou best of men, thy very look can sway me,
With strange resistless impulse to obey thee;
So much already have I done for thee
That to refuse thee now would be in vain.

(Exit.
Enter Mephistopheles.
MEPHISTOPHELES.
Well, is the monkey gone?

FAUST.
Hast play'd the spy again?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
I have been duly advertised,
How Doctor Faust was catechised:
I hope that it will profit you.
The girls are wont—they have their reasons too—
To see that one, in every point, believes
The faith, that from his fathers he receives.
They think, if little mettle here he shews,
We too may lead him by the nose.

FAUST.
Thou monster, dost not know how this fond soul,
To whom her faith is all,
And who believes
That none but such a faith salvation gives,
With many an anxious holy fear is toss'd,
Lest he, whom best she loves, should be for ever lost?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
Thou super sensual sensual fool,
A silly girl takes thee to school.

FAUST.
Thou dirt and fire-born monster, thou!

MEPHISTOPHELES.
And then her skill in physiognomy,
I must confess, it did astonish me!
When I come near, she feels she knows not how,
And, through my mask, can read it on my brow,
That I must be, if not the very devil,
A genius far above the common level.
And now to-night—

FAUST.
What's that to thee?

MEPHISTOPHELES.
I have my joy too in my master's glee.