Tragedy Of Faust

By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Faust And Mephistopheles - A Student

Faust And Mephistopheles - A Student

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Faust And Mephistopheles - A Student

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Faust

A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?

Mephistopheles

`Tis I!

Faust

Come in!

Mephistopheles

Thrice be the words express`d.

Faust

Then I repeat, Come in!
Mephistopheles

`Tis well,
I hope that we shall soon agree!
For now your fancies to expel,
Here, as a youth of high degree,
I come in gold - lac`d scarlet vest,
And stiff - silk mantle richly dress`d,
A cock`s gay feather for a plume,
A long and pointed rapier, too;
And briefly I would counsel you
To don at once the same costume,
And, free from trammels, speed away,
That what life is you may essay.

Faust

In every garb I needs must feel oppress`d,
My heart to earth`s low cares a prey.
Too old the trifler`s part to play,
Too young to live by no desire possess`d.
What can the world to me afford?
Renounce! renouce! is still the word;
This is the everlasting song
In every ear that ceaseless rings,
And which, alas, our whole life long,
Hoarsely each passing moment sings.
But to new horror I awake each morn,
And I could weep hot tears, to see the sun
Dawn on another day, whose round forlorn
Accomplishes no wish of mine - not one.
Which still, with froward captiousness, impains
E`en the presentiment of every joy,
While low realities and paltry cares
The spirit`s fond imaginings destroy.
Then must I too, when falls the veil of night,
Stretch`d on my pallet languish in despair,
Appalling dreams my soul affright;
No rest vouchsafed me even there.
The god, who throned within my breast resides,
Deep in my soul can stir the springs;
With sovereign sway my energies he guides,
He cannot move external things;
And so existence is to me a weight.
Death fondly I desire, and life I hate.

Mephistopheles

And yet, methinks, by most `twill be confess`d
That Death is never quite a welcome guest.

Faust

Happy the man around whose brow he binds
The bloodstain`d wreath in conquest`s dazzling hour;
Or whom, excited by the dance, he finds
Dissolv`d in bliss, in love`s delicious bower!
O that before the lofty spirit`s might,
Enraptured, I had rendered up my soul!

Mephistopheles

Yet did a certain man refrain one night,
Of its brown juice to drain the crystal bowl.

Faust

To play the spy diverts you then?

Mephistopheles

I own,
Though not omniscient, much to me is known.

Faust

If o`er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,
Drew me from harrowing thought`s bewild`ring maze,
Touching the ling`ring chords of childlike feeling,
With sweet harmonies of happier days:
So curse I all, around the soul that windeth
Its magic and alluring spell,
And with delusive flattery bindeth
Its victim to this dreary cell!
Curs`d before all things be the high opinion,
Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!
Of shows delusive curs`d be the dominion,
Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!
Accurs`d of dreams the treacherous wiles,
The cheat of glory, deathless fame!
Accurs`d what each as property beguiles,
Wife, child, slave, plough, whate`er its name!
Accurs`d be mammon, when with treasure
He doth to daring deeds incite:
Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,
He spreads the couch of soft delight!
Curs`d be the grape`s balsamic juice!
Accurs`d love`s dream, of joys the first!
Accurs`d be hope! accurs`d be faith!
And more than all, be patience curs`d!

Chorus of Spirits (invisible)

Woe! Woe!
Thou hast destroy`d
The beautiful world
With violent blow;
`Tis shiver`d! `tis shatter`d!
The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter`d!
Now we sweep
The wrecks into nothingness!
Fondly we weep
The beauty that`s gone!
Thou, `mongst the sons of earth,
Lofty and mighty one,
Build it once more!
In thine own bosom the lost world restore!
Now with unclouded sense
Enter a new career;
Songs shall salute thine ear,
Ne`er heard before!

Mephistopheles

My little ones these spirits be.
Hark! with shrewd intelligence,
How they recommend to thee
Action, and the joys of sense!
In the busy world to dwell,
Fain they would allure thee hence:
For within this lonely cell,
Stagnate sap of life and sense.

Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,
Which, vulture - like, consumes thee in this den.
The worst society is some relief,
Making thee feel thyself a man with men.
Nathless, it is not meant, I trow,
To thrust thee `mid the vulgar throng.
I to the upper ranks do not belong;
Yet if, by me companion`d, thou
Thy steps through life forthwith wilt take,
Upon the spot myself I`ll make
Thy comrade; -
Should it suit thy need,
I am thy servant, am thy slave indeed!

Faust

And how must I thy services repay?

Mephistopheles

Thereto thou lengthen`d repite hast!

Faust

No! No!
The devil is an egoist I know:
And, for Heaven`s sake, `tis not his way
Kindness to any one to show.
Let the condition plainly be exprest!
Such a domestic is a dangerous guest.

Mephistopheles

I`ll pledge myself to be thy servant here,
Still at thy back alert and prompt to be;
But when together yonder we appear,
Then shalt thou do the same for me.

Faust

But small concern I feel for yonder world;
Hast thou this system into ruin hurl`d,
Another may arise the void to fill.
This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow,
This sun doth daily shine upon my woe,
And if this world I must forego,
Let happen then, - what can and will.
I to this theme will close mine ears,
If men hereafter hate and love,
And if there be in yonder spheres
A depth below or height above.

Mephistopheles

In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make
The compact! I at once will undertake
To charm thee with mine arts. I`ll give thee more
Than mortal eye hath e`er beheld before.

Faust

What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow?
Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavour,
Fathom`d by Being such as thou?
Yet food thou hast which satisfieth never,
Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow
Like restless quicksilver away,
A game thou hast, at which none win who play,
A girl who would, with amorous eyen,
E`en from my breast, a neighbour snare,
Lofty ambition`s joy divine,
That, meteor - like, dissolves in air.
Show me the fruit that, ere `tis pluck`d, doth rot,
And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!

Mephistopheles

Such a commission scares me not,
I can provide such treasures, it is true;
But, my good friend, a season will come round,
When on what`s good we may regale in peace.

Faust

If e`er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I`m found,
Then may my life that instant cease!
Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile
Till self - reproach away I cast, -
Me with joy`s lure canst thou beguile; -
Let that day be for me the last!
Be this our wager!

Mephistopheles

Settled!

Faust

Sure and fast!
When to the moment I shall say,
"Linger awhile! so fair thou art!"
Then mayst thou fetter me straightway,
Then to the abyss will I depart!
Then may the solemn death - bell sound,
Then from thy service thou art free,
The index then may cease its round.
And time be never more for me!

Mephistopheles

I shall remember: pause, ere `tis too late.

Faust

Thereto a perfect right hast thou.
My strength I do not rashly overrate.
Slave am I here, at any rate,
If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.

Mephistopheles

At thine inaugural feast I will this day
Attend, my duties to commence. -
But one thing! - Accidents may happen, hence
A line or two in writing grant, I pray.

Faust

A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me?
Man, and man`s plighted word, are these unknown to thee?
Is`t not enough, that by the word I gave,
My doom for evermore is cast?
Doth not the world in all its currents rave,
And must a promise hold me fast?
Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart;
Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part?
How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure!
No sacrifice will he repent when made!
A formal deed, with seal and signature,
A spectre this from which all shrink afraid.
The word its life resigneth in the pen,
Leather and wax usurp the mastery then.
Spirits of evil! what dost thou require?
Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire?
Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write?
Thy choice is free; to me `tis all the same.

Mephistopheles

Wherefore thy passion so excite
And thus thine eloquence inflame?
A scrap is for our compact good.
Thou under - signest merely with a drop of blood.

Faust

If this will satisfy thy mind,
Thy whim I`ll gratify, howe`er absurd.

Mephistopheles

Blood is a juice of very special kind.

Faust

Be not afraid that I shall break my word!
The scope of all my energy
Is in exact accordance with my vow.
Vainly I have aspired too high;
I`m on a level but with such as thou;
Me the great spirit scorn`d, defied;
Nature from me herself doth hide;
Rent is the web of thought; my mind
Doth knowledge loathe of every kind.
In depths of sensual pleasure drown`d,
Let us our fiery passions still!
Enwrapp`d in magic`s veil profound,
Let wondrous charms our senses thrill!
Plunge we in time`s tempestuous flow,
Stem we the rolling surge of chance!
There may alternate weal and woe,
Success and failure, as they can,
Mingle and shift in changeful dance!
Excitement is the sphere for man.

Mephistopheles

Nor goal, nor measure is prescrib`d to you,
If you desire to taste of every thing,
To snatch at joy while on the wing,
May your career amuse and profit too!
Only fall to and don`t be over coy!

Faust

Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;
I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,
Enamour`d hatred, quickening vexation.
Purg`d from the love of knowledge, my vocation,
The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,
To bare my breast to every pang, - to know
In my heart`s core all human weal and woe,
To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,
Men`s various fortunes on my breast to heap,
And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,
And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.

Mephistopheles

Oh, credit me, who still as ages roll,
Have chew`d this bitter fare from year to year,
No mortal, from the cradle to the bier,
Digests the ancient leaven! Know, this Whole
Doth for the Deity alone subsist!
He in eternal brightness doth exist,
Us unto darkness he hath brought, and here
Where day and night alternate, is your sphere.

Faust

But `tis my will!

Mephistopheles

Well spoken, I admit!
But one thing puzzles me, my friend;
Time`s short, art long; methinks `twere fit
That you to friendly counsel should attend.
A poet choose as your ally!
Let him thought`s wide dominion sweep,
Each good and noble quality,
Upon your honoured brow to heap;
The lion`s magnanimity,
The fleetness of the hind,
The fiery blood of Italy,
The Northern`s steadfast mind.
Let him to you the mystery show
To blend high aims and cunning low;
And while youth`s passions are aflame
To fall in love by rule and plan!
I fain would meet with such a man;
Would him Sir Microcosmus name.

Faust

What then am I, if I aspire in vain
The crown of our humanity to gain,
Towards which my every sense doth strain?

Mephistopheles

Thou`rt after all - just what thou art.
Put on thy head a wig with countless locks,
And to a cubit`s height upraise thy socks,
Still thou remainest ever, what thou art.

Faust

I fell it, I have heap`d upon my brain
The gather`d treasure of man`s thought in vain;
And when at length from studious toil I rest,
No power, new - born, springs up within my breast;
A hair`s breadth is not added to my height,
I am no nearer to the infinite.

Mephistopheles

Good sir, these things you view indeed,
Just as by other men they`re view`d;
We must more cleverly proceed,
Before life`s joys our grasp elude.
The devil! thou hast hands and feet,
And head and heart are also thine;
What I enjoy with relish sweet,
Is it on that account less mine?
If for six stallions I can pay,
Do I not own their strength and speed?
A proper man I dash away,
As their two dozen legs were mine indeed.
Up then, from idle pondering free,
And forth into the world with me!
I tell you what; - your speculative churl
Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,
On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,
While all around lie fair and verdant meads.

Faust

But how shall we begin?

Mephistopheles

We will go hence with speed,
A place of torment this indeed!
A precious life, thyself to bore,
And some few youngster evermore!
Leave that to neighbour Paunch! - withdraw,
Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?
The very best that thou dost know
Thou dar`st not to the striplings show.
One in the passage now doth wait!

Faust

I`m in no mood to see him now.

Mephistopheles

Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;
He must not go disconsolate.
Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask
Is for my purpose quite first rate.
(He changes his dress.)
Now leave it to my wit! I ask
But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,
And make all ready for our pleasant trip!

(Exit Faust.)


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