 | Goethe's Faust : First Part |  |
106
SCENE X.
At the House of a Neighbour.Martha
(alone.)
God pardon my dear husband now,
He has not used me well, I trow!
Into the world straight he has gone,
And leaves me on my straw-bed alone.
And yet I never was a shrew,
And God knows that I loved him true.
(She weeps.)
Mayhap he's dead!—Oh! pain to wait!
Would I'd his death-certificate!
Enter Margaret.
Dame Martha!
Martha.
Gretchen, what's wrong with thee?
Margaret.
My knees are ready to give way!
Another casket I found to-day,
In my own press—of ebony,
And in it splendid things there are,
Richer than those first sent by far.
Martha.
This you must never tell your mother;
She'd go and confess it, like the other.
Margaret.
Ah see them only! only see!
Martha
(putting the jewels on Margaret.)
O happy creature that thou must be!
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Ne'er alas! could I dare be seen
In street or church with them on, I ween.
Martha.
Come over often to me, then,
Put on your jewels in secret here,
Walk 'fore the looking-glass an hour, now and again.
How we'll enjoy ourselves, my dear!
Then comes your chance, some holiday,
When, one by one, to folk your gems you can display.
A chain at first, then in your ear a pearl,
Your mother shall not see, we'll hoodwink her, my girl.
Margaret.
But who could bring these two caskets to me?
This haps not when all's right you see!
(A knock at the door.)
If 'twere my Mother! God pardon sin!
Martha
(peeping through the curtain.)
Tis a strange gentleman—Come in!
Mephistopheles
(entering.)
If to intrude I make so free,
I beg the ladies to pardon me.
(He steps back respectfully before Margaret.)
I wish to inquire for Dame Martha Schwertdlein.
Martha.
What would you ask sir? That name is mine.
Mephistopheles
(aside to Martha.)
I have made your acquaintance, now leave you free;
This lady has called on you, I see
Pardon the liberty I have ta'en,
This afternoon I will call again.
Martha
(aloud.)
Of all things in the world, child, hear,
This gentleman thinks thou'rt a lady, my dear!
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Indeed but a poor young maid I be,
Ah God! the gentleman flatters me:
This finery is not my own.
Mephistopheles.
Ah! but 'tis not the jewels alone
She has a presence, a look, an air!
I am glad to stay, if stay I dare.
Martha.
What brings you then?—I am anxious to—
Mephistopheles.
Would I had happier news for you!
I crave your pardon for what I tell:
Your husband is dead, and greets you well.
Martha.
Is dead? true heart, forlorn am I!
My husband's dead! Ah! I shall die!
Margaret.
Ah! dearest dame, do not despair!
Mephistopheles.
Hear the sad story that I bear!
Margaret.
Ne'er would I love all my life's day,
If for such a loss I should pine away.
Mephistopheles.
Joy must bring grief, grief joy likewise.
Martha.
Tell me of his life's close, and death.
Mephistopheles.
In Padua in his grave he lies,
St. Antony's great church beneath,
In a well-consecrated ground
His cold last bed of rest he has found.
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Have you naught else he bade you bring?
Mephistopheles.
Yes, but one heavy and hard request,
That you for his repose three hundred masses let sing!
My pockets are empty for the rest.
Martha.
What! not a trinket, not a coin to show?
What every journeyman hoards in his satchel, where
His keepsakes lie, preserved with care,
Would beg or starve, ere sell them yonder!
Mephistopheles.
Madam, my heart feels for your woe;
But all his money in sooth he did not rashly squander,
Ruing moreover, his faults full sore,
Ay, and complained of his bad luck much more.
Margaret.
Alas! that so unhappy men should be!
Full many a requiem now for his poor soul I'll say.
Mephistopheles.
You soon should make a right good match some day:
You are a girl worth loving, I see.
Margaret.
Ah no! That cannot be as yet.
Mephistopheles.
If not, meanwhile a gallant you may get.
The greatest of heaven's best gifts it were,
To clasp in one's arms a thing so dear.
Margaret.
Here it is not the custom, sir.
Mephistopheles.
Custom, or not, such things occur.
110
But tell me more!
Mephistopheles.
I stood beside his dank death-bed.
'Twas better than muck half-putrified,
Half rotten straw; yet he a Christian died,
But found he had many a thing still on the score, he said.
“How,” cried he, “must self-hatred in me waken
Thus to have left my trade, my wife forsaken!
The memory kills me, as here I lie.
Would she but pardon me while yet I am living!”
Martha
(weeping.)
Good man! long since his faults I have forgotten.
Mephistopheles.
“But, God knows, she was more to blame than I.”
Martha.
There he lied! What! to lie at the grave's brink!
Mephistopheles.
He wandered when at grips with death, I think,
If in these matters I'm not half-dense.
“I had no time to gape idly about!” he said,
“First children came, then I must win them bread,
And bread too in the widest sense,
And never once was left to eat my bit in peace.”
Martha.
My love, my faith, forgotten, if you please!
My drudgery long nights and days!
Mephistopheles.
Nay, in his heart he thought of it always.
He said: “I shipped from Malta, in poor plight,
And prayed for wife and children fervently.
And then Heaven favoured us; at sea
We took a Turkish galley in fair fight,
That had for cargo the great Sultan's treasure.
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And I received my rightful share, full measure,
Of the prize-money she had aboard.”
Martha.
Eh! what? Where is it? Has he, maybe, buried it?
Mephistopheles.
Who now knows whither the four winds have hurried it?
A pretty girl got hold of him, as he
Wandered the streets of Naples without a friend,
Promised to love him ever faithfully.
He wore her favours to his blessed end.
Martha.
The rogue! the robber of children and of wife!
Their misery, their lack of bread
Could not amend his scandalous life!
Mephistopheles.
Ay, see what came of that! He's dead!
Were I myself now in your place,
I'd mourn for him a decent year,
And seek meanwhile a sweetheart with God's grace.
Martha.
Ah God! whate'er my first appear,
I scarce could find on earth such a wild gander,
A softer-hearted fool there scarce could be.
He loved too much over the world to wander,
And foreign women, and wine loved he,
And that curst dicing more, I ween.
Mephistopheles.
Well, well, you might have still rubbed on,
If he perchance, as much had seen,
From his own point, of yours. Upon
This one condition, I swear 'tis true,
I gladly would change rings with you!
Martha.
The gentleman is pleased to jest!
112
(aside.)
Gad, I must bolt from her, and quick!
To his own word she'd make the Devil stick!
(To Margaret.)
How goes the heart in your soft breast?
Margaret.
What mean you, sir, by that?
Mephistopheles
(aside.)
Thou good and innocent Maid!
Ladies, farewell!
Margaret.
Farewell!
Martha.
Quick! tell me! I need your aid.
Some evidence I wish to have
Where, how, and when my Dear died, and where lies in his grave?
I like to have all in order, fain would read
His death-lines in “The Weekly News,” indeed.
Mephistopheles.
Good Madam, yes, two witnesses must swear
A deposition—thus the truth is clear.
A smart young fellow is with me now,
I'll take him before the Judge, I vow!
I'll bring him here.
Martha.
Oh, do so, pray!
Mephistopheles.
And this young Lady here will stay?
A fine young man, much travelled too,
Young Lady, I bring his respects to you.
Margaret.
'Fore the gentleman I must blush for shame.
113
Before no King of the World who came.
Martha.
Behind the house, in my garden, then,
This evening we'll expect the gentlemen.
| Goethe's Faust : First Part | |