Faust (23 page)

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Authors: Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

BOOK: Faust
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3240
That nothing perfect ever can accrue to Man
 
I know deeply now. With all my bliss
 
which brought me close and closer to the gods,
 
you gave me the companion which I even now
 
can no longer do without; though cold and insolent,
 
he humbles me before myself, and by a single breath
 
he transforms your gifts to nothingness,
 
and busily he fans within my bosom
 
a seething fire for that radiant image.
 
I stagger from desire to enjoyment,
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and in its throes I starve for more desire.
 
        (
MEPHISTOPHELES
enters
.)

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
Are you not done yet with this kind of life?
 
How can you enjoy it for so long?
 
A taste of it is well and good,
 
but then come on, try something new!

FAUST.

 
I wish that you had other things to do
 
than to plague me with your presence.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
Well, well; I should be glad to let you be,
 
if you should ask for it in earnest.
 
The loss of such a mad and hostile fellow
3260
is but a trifling business for me;
 
I’ve got my hands full day and night;
 
there is no telling by his nose and bearing
 
what pleases him and what repels him at the moment.

FAUST.

 
This is just the tone I needed!
 
Demanding gratitude for boring me.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
How would you, miserable son of earth,
 
have lived your life without my help?
 
I think I cured you for some time to come
 
from the claptrap of your fantasy.
3270
Except for me you would have made your exit
 
from this globe some time ago.
33
 
What is the point of cowering like an owl
 
in fissured rocks and dismal mountain caves?
 
Why, toadlike, do you swill your nourishment
 
from soggy moss and dripping stones?
 
A darling way to pass the time!
 
The doctor’s in your belly still!

FAUST.

 
Can you conceive what new and vital power
 
I draw from living in the wilderness?
3280
If you could, I think you’d be
 
devilish enough to envy me my happiness.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
What supernatural delight!
 
To lie in nightly dew on mountain heights,
 
to encompass earth and heaven in a rapture
 
and inflate one’s being to a godlike state,
 
to burrow to the core, inflamed by premonition,
 
to feel six days of God’s creation in your bosom,
 
enjoy in pride and strength I know not what,
 
and flooding all in loving ecstasy,
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the son of earth is canceled out—
 
then comes the lofty intuition—
 
        (
Makes an obscene gesture
.)
 
to end in … Well, I’ll keep it to myself.

FAUST.

 
You pig!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
              I see that this is hardly to your liking.
 
You may say “pig” in all propriety.
 
One must not say to chaste and modest ears
 
what chaste hearts can never do without.
 
Once for all, you are most welcome to the fun
 
of self-delusion now and then;
 
you cannot keep it up for very long;
3300
you’re driven on before you know,
 
and should it last, you’re ground to bits
 
by madness, torment, or sheer horror.
 
Enough of this, your sweetheart sits at home,
 
and to her the world seems close and dreary.
 
You live forever in her mind.
 
An overwhelming love for you has seized her soul.
 
At first your passion rose and overflowed
 
as when a brook will swell from melting snow;
 
you poured it all into her bosom—
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and now the brook runs dry again.
 
I think, instead of playing king in forest groves,
 
the gentleman might well see fit
 
to give the squirming little creature
 
a gift in gratitude for loving him.
 
The time hangs heavy on her hands;
 
she stands and sees the clouds pass by her window
 
as they drift above the city walls.
 
“If I were just a little bird”—so goes her song
 
throughout the day and half the night.
3320
Now she’s cheerful, but mostly she is sad,
 
now her tears are streaming down,
 
and then she’s calm again, it seems,
 
and always, always loving you.

FAUST.

 
You snake! You snake!

MEPHISTOPHELES
(
aside
)
.

 
Here now! So I’ve trapped you!

FAUST.

 
Get away from me, you cursed fiend,
 
and never speak her blessèd name!
 
Lash not again my tortured senses
 
to lust for her whom I adore.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

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Then why the fuss? She thinks that you have left her,
 
and more or less, that is what did occur.

FAUST.

 
I’m near her always, even when I’m far away;
 
I never can forget nor lose her.
 
I even grudge the Body of the Lord
 
when her lips approach to touch the Host.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
That’s good, my friend! I’ve often envied you
 
the pair of roes that feeds among the lilies.
34

FAUST.

 
Get out, you pimp!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
How nice! You rail away and I must laugh.
 
The God who fashioned boys and girls,
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seeing quickly what was wanting,
 
gave them their chance and opportunity.
 
But come. Why all this fussing?
 
You’re going to your sweetheart’s chamber
 
and not at all to death and doom.

FAUST.

 
When in her arms, I need no joys of Heaven.
 
The warmth I seek is burning in her breast.
 
Do I not every moment feel her woe?
 
Am I not the fugitive, the homeless roamer,
 
an aimless, rootless, monstrous creature,
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roaring like a cataract from crag to crag,
 
madly racing for the final precipice?
 
And she along the banks with childlike, simple sense,
 
there in her cabin on an alpine meadow,
 
with all the homey enterprises
 
encompassed by her tiny world.
 
And I whom God abhors,
 
I was not satisfied
 
to seize the rocks,
 
and crush them into pieces.
3360
It was her life, her peace I had to ruin.
 
You, Satan, claimed this sacrifice!
 
Help, Satan, help abridge the time of fear!
 
What has to happen, let it happen now!
 
Let her fate come crashing down on mine,
 
let us both embrace perdition!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

 
How you burn and seethe again!
 
Go in and comfort her, you fool.
 
When you pinheads find no place to go,
 
you think at once, “It is the end!”
3370
Long live he who stands his ground courageously!
 
Till now I’d thought you pretty well en-deviled.
 
I can think of nothing tawdrier in the world
 
than a devil who despairs.
GRETCHEN’S ROOM

GRETCHEN
(
alone at the spinning wheel
)
.

 
              My peace is gone,
 
              My heart is sore;
 
              I’ll find it never
 
              And nevermore.
 
              To be without him
 
              Is like the grave;
3380
              The sweet world all
 
              Is turned to gall.
 
              Ah, my poor head
 
              Is so distraught;
 
              Ah, my poor mind
 
              Can think no thought.
 
              My peace is gone,
 
              My heart is sore;
 
              I’ll find it never
 
              And nevermore.
3390
              I stand by my window,
 
              I seek only him.
 
              I run from my door
 
              To be but with him.
 
              His noble gait,
 
              Lofty and wise;
 
              The smile on his lips,
 
              The force of his eyes.
 
              In the flow of his words,
 
              Is magical bliss.
3400
              The clasp of his hand
 
              Ah, what bliss!
 
              My peace is gone,
 
              My heart is sore;
 
              I’ll find it never
 
              And nevermore.
 
              My heart is yearning
 
              To be at his side,
 
              To clasp and enfold him
 
              And hold him tight.
3410
              To love and to kiss,
 
              To murmur and sigh,
 
              And under his kiss
 
              To melt and to die!
35
MARTHA’S GARDEN

Margaret, Faust
.

MARGARET.

 
Promise me, Heinrich!

FAUST.

 
                                   Whatever I can!

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