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B00ARI2G5C EBOK

Page 16

by Goethe, J. W. von


  But swallow the coal immediately, don’t take

  A drop of wine or water. That will make

  Him sigh this very night before your door.

  THE LADY. I hope it’s not a poison?

  MEPHISTOPHELES [indignantly].

  If you please,

  Show due respect! The flames around a stake

  Charred this rare relic; bonfires such as these

  Were commoner in days of yore.

  A PAGE. I’m in love, but they say I’m still not old enough.

  MEPHISTOPHELES. I’m at my wit’s end, answering all this stuff.

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  [To THE PAGE.]

  The pursuit of young girls will certainly frustrate you.

  Try older ladies, they’ll appreciate you.

  [Others crowd round him.]

  More cases to be dealt with! I don’t know

  Which way to turn. In such a situation

  One has to tell the truth, in desperation.

  Oh, Mothers, Mothers, help me! Let Faust go!

  [Looking about him.]

  But already the lights are burning low;

  The whole court is assembling for the show.

  In seemly sequence they advance down long

  Passages, through far galleries, and throng

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  Into the great hall—such a crowd its old

  And noble space can scarcely hold.

  Its walls are rich with tapestry displays,

  And knightly armour stands in nooks and bays.

  I think no magic words are needed here;

  Now of their own accord the spirits will appear.

  7. THE GREAT HALL

  [Subdued lighting. THE EMPEROR has entered with his court.]

  THE HERALD. My task was always to announce a play:

  Now, spirit-antics complicate the thing.

  Their secret tricks I can’t explain away

  By common sense; it’s most bewildering.

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  The thrones and chairs are all in readiness;

  Facing the wall, the Emperor takes his place;

  Depicted on its surface he can see

  Old battle-scenes very commodiously.

  So here they sit, lords, ladies of the court;

  Behind, on benches, are the commoner sort,

  And for this ghostly show, amid the huddle,

  Sweetheart and sweetheart find a place to cuddle.

  Thus, all are seated, all’s in order here,

  We are prepared: the spirits may appear!

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  [A fanfare is sounded.]

  THE ASTROLOGER.* Then let our drama start at once. By high

  Command, let the walls open, mastered by

  A ready magic!* See, the hangings furl

  Away, as if they were on fire; the whole

  Wall splits, turns inside out; now I ascend

  To the proscenium, as a deep stage

  Appears before us by some sortilege,

  And glimmering light mysteriously is feigned.

  MEPHISTOPHELES [appearing the prompt-box].

  From here I hope to please the general taste;

  As a prompter the Devil is well placed.

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  [To THE ASTROLOGER.]

  You know the starry motions in and out;

  You’ll understand my whisperings, I don’t doubt.

  THE ASTROLOGER. By magic power now before our eyes

  We see a massive temple-structure rise;

  And as old Atlas carried heaven, so

  These many pillars stand in stalwart row,

  Ample to bear a mass of rock so great;

  Two alone would support a building’s weight.

  AN ARCHITECT. So that’s the antique style! Well, to my mind

  It’s most ungainly, lumpish, unrefined.

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  They call such coarseness grand and noble! Where

  Are our slim columns striving through the air,

  Our pointed arch that lifts the spirit high?

  Such edifices truly edify.

  THE ASTROLOGER. Welcome with reverence this star-favoured hour!

  Reason, be bound by verbal magic’s power!

  And boldly, splendidly, from far and wide,

  Let Fancy come here and be satisfied.

  What you have dared to crave, your eyes now see;

  Believe it quia impossibile.

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  [FAUST rises into view at the other side of the proscenium.]

  THE ASTROLOGER. In priesdy robes and wreath, a miracle-man

  Comes to complete the great work he began.

  A tripod rises from the depths with him,

  A whiff of incense from the brazier’s rim;

  His lofty task he now will crown and bless;

  All will be well, all points to happiness.

  FAUST [with grandiose dechtnation]..

  In your name, oh great Mothers, you whose throne

  Is boundlessness: eternally alone

  You dwell, and yet in company! Round the head

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  Of each of you, life’s forms float, live yet dead;

  What once has been, what once shone gloriously,

  Still stirs there, seeking evermore to be.

  Your mighty power divides it; day’s bright tent

  Receives it, or the night’s dark firmament.

  Some images are merged with life’s sweet flow,

  And some the bold magician captures: so

  With prodigal confidence he satisfies

  Our wish, and brings wonders before our eyes.

  THE ASTROLOGER. His glowing key touches the bowl, and all

  At once a misty vapour fills the hall.

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  Cloud-like it creeps and shapes itself, extended,

  Compacted, parted, criss-crossed, double-ended.

  Now for a masterstroke of spirit-art!

  These moving clouds make music, touch the heart

  With airy tones, some je ne sais quoi of sound,

  And all is melody as they drift around.

  They set the columns and the triglyphs ringing:

  I do believe the entire temple’s singing.

  The mist subsides: from it, as if to dance,

  We see a beautiful young man advance.

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  The lovely Paris—but I’ll say no more;

  He needs no introduction here, I’m sure.

  [PARIS appears.]

  A LADY. Oh radiant youth, in fullest flower so sweet!

  ANOTHER. HOW like a peach, juicy and fresh to eat!

  A THIRD. His lips how delicate, yet full and pink!

  A FOURTH. A shapely cup; wouldn’t you like to drink!

  A FIFTH. He’s pretty, in a slightly vulgar way.

  A SIXTH. Not quite enough deportment, I would say.

  A KNIGHT. I recognize the shepherd-boy, that’s clear,

  But not the prince; not one of us, I fear.

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  ANOTHER. Oh, he’s half-naked, looks all very well,

  But let him put on armour, then we’d tell.

  A LADY. Now he sits down; how softly, with what grace!

  A KNIGHT. You’d find his lap a pleasant resting-place?

  ANOTHER LADY. How gently on his arm he rests his head!

  THE CHAMBERLAIN. The lout! Such postures are prohibited!

  A LADY. Why must you men find fault perpetually?

  THE CHAMBERLAIN. To loll and sprawl before his Majesty!

  A LADY. It’s just his act, he can’t see us or you.

  THE CHAMBERLAIN. This is the Court; plays must be

  courteous too.

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  A LADY. A gentle sleep envelops the dear creature.

  THE CHAMBERLAIN. And now he snores; entirely true to nature.

  A YOUNG LADY [enraptured].

  What can that fragrance in the incense be

  That moves my heart, that so refreshes me?

  AN OLDER L
ADY. Indeed, it penetrates the soul, this breath

  That comes from him!

  A STILL OLDER LADY. It is the bloom, the growth

  Within him: the whole atmosphere is filled

  With this boy’s youth ambrosially distilled.

  [HELEN appears.]

  MEPHISTOPHELES. SO that’s her! Pretty, but not what I’d call

  Exciting; she’s just not my type at all.

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  THE ASTROLOGER. I must admit it in all honesty:

  Though I had tongues of fire, here there would be

  No more for me to do than say: Behold,

  Now beauty comes! As poets sang of old,

  The sight of beauty maddens; to possess

  It is good luck in dangerous excess.

  FAUST. Have I still eyes? Has beauty’s fountain-head

  Itself flooded my inmost mind? So blest

  Is my reward after that fearful quest!

  How empty all the world was, closed and dead

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  To me until this priestly revelation

  Founded it fast, a timeless, loved creation!

  May life’s breath fail me, if habituation

  Shall ever wean me back from you again!—

  What magic mirror was it long ago,

  What fair shape that bewitched me so?

  What vision now, what vaporous fantasm then!—

  To you I pledge my strength, my whole desire,

  Passion’s quintessence, all the fire,

  The idolatry, the madness of my heart.

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  MEPHISTOPHELES [from the prompt-box].

  Compose yourself, keep calm, stick to your part!*

  AN OLDER LADY. She’s tall, well-made; why is her head not bigger?

  A YOUNGER LADY. HOW coarse her feet are! They don’t match her figure.

  A DIPLOMAT. She’s just like many a princess I know;

  I think her beautiful from top to toe.

  A COURTIER. Gently she steals towards the sleeping lad.

  A LADY. Spoiling his youthful purity; it’s too bad!

  A POET. NOW in her beauty’s rays he seems to bask.

  A LADY. Endymion and Luna, need one ask!

  THE POET. Exactly so! And now the goddess stoops

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  Down to him, drinks the breath upon his lips;

  A kiss!—Ah, enviable consummation!

  A DUENNA. In public! This is an abomination!

  FAUST. Shall that boy be so favoured?

  MEPHISTOPHELES. Let them be!

  Ghosts will be ghosts—respect their liberty!

  A COURTIER. She tiptoes from him; now he is awake.

  A LADY. But she looks back at him, make no mistake.

  A COURTIER. He is amazed, he can’t believe his eyes.

  A LADY. Amazed! Not she; for her it’s no surprise.

  A COURTIER. HOW modesdy she turns to him again!

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  A LADY. Oh yes, she’ll educate him now with care.

  What fools they are in such a case, these men!

  No doubt he thinks he is the first one there.

  A KNIGHT. Come, let’s not carp. What majesty, what grace!

  A LADY. The common slut! Just look! It’s a disgrace!

  A PAGE. What would I give now to be in his place!

  A COURTIER. The man she can’t ensnare’s not yet been born.

  A LADY. The pretty jewel’s been so often worn,

  Even the gilding’s getting less like gold.

  ANOTHER. She started it at only ten years old.*

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  A KNIGHT. We must be opportunists; I’d not say

  No to the good things others throw away.

  A SCHOLAR. I see her plain, but I must say I feel

  A little doubtful whether she is real.

  To say she’s here could be exaggeration;

  The text is what I go by, the narration

  In which I read that all Troy’s greybeards fell

  Head over heels in love with her as well.

  This proves the point, I think; for I’m not active

  And young, and yet I find her most attractive.

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  THE ASTROLOGER. NOW he’s a boy no more! A hero’s arms

  Boldly embrace her scarce-resisting charms;

  With sudden strength he lifts her—seems to bear

  Her off, indeed—

  FAUST. Rash fool! How does he dare?

  Stop! Can’t you hear me? I must intervene!

  MEPHISTOPHELES. But it’s all in your mind, the mad spooky scene!

  THE ASTROLOGER. After all this, I’ve one more thing to say:

  The Rape of Helen’s what I’d call the play.

  FAUST. Rape! Do I count for nothing here? My hand

  Still holds this key, this key that was my guide

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  Through all the solitudes, through ocean-wide

  Chaos, and brought me back again to land!

  Here I set foot, here are realities,

  From here the spirit wars with spirits, here is

  The joining of the two great sovereignties.

  Far as she was, how nearer can she be!

  I’ll rescue her, and she’ll belong to me

  Twice over! Mothers, Mothers, grant this boon!

  Who that has known her lets her go so soon!

  THE ASTROLOGER. Faust! Faust! What are you doing?— By main force

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  He has seized her, and her shape grows dim, of course.

  He turns his key against the young man—No!—

  It touches him!—We’re done for now! Oh! Oh!

  [There is an explosion, FAUST is struck to the ground. The spirits dissolve into mist.]

  MEPHISTOPHELES [hoisting FAUST on his back]. So there, you see! Take up with fools, and you’ll

  Regret it; even the Devil learns that rule.

  [Darkness, general tumult.]

  ACT TWO

  8.A HIGH-VAULTED, NARROW GOTHIC ROOM

  [Formerly FAUST’S study, unchanged. MEPHISTOP HELES steps from behind a curtain. As he lifis it and looks hack, we see FAUST lying prostrate on a bed of antiquated design.]

  MEPHISTOPHELES. Lie here, poor wretch! Ensnared again!

  Who’ll free you now, misguided lover?

  When Helen paralyses men,

  They don’t so readily recover.

  [Looking about him.]

  I raise my eyes, I look around;

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  It’s as it was, not changed a bit!

  The stained glass seems a trifle browned,

  And the room has more cobwebs covering it;

  The ink’s congealed, the paper’s yellow,

  But all’s in place—even the pen is duly

  Displayed that Faust once used, poor fellow,

  To sign his bargain with yours truly;

  And here, dried up inside the quill,

  That drop of blood I invited him to spill!

  A valuable collector’s piece;

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  Unique, in fact. And, if you please,

  Here’s his old gown still on its hook,

  To remind me of the pains I took

  Teasing a student with my learned jokes—

  He’ll have grown up still feeding on that hoax.

  Well, you warm, furry cloak! I’d really quite

  Like to wrap up in you and play

  The tutor once again today.

  That splendid sense of being always right!

  It’s a fine art that scholars know;

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  The Devil lost it long ago.

  [He takes down the fur-trimmed gown and shakes it; crickets, beetles, and moths fly out.]

  CHORUS OF INSECTS. Our old master has come!

  Let us hover and hum!

  What a pleasure to meet you!

  We know you, we greet you!

  You planted us quietly,

  A few here and there;

  Now we swarm fo
r our daddy

  And dance in the air!

  A man’s wicked thoughts,

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  In his heart they will bide;

  But the bugs in his cloak

  Are less easy to hide.

  MEPHISTOPHELES. What an agreeable surprise! My youthful brood!

  One harvests in due course the seeds one sowed.

  I’ll give another shake to this old clout—

  Now a few more of them come jumping out.

  Fly up, fly round, my dears! Cover your traces!

  Here you’ve a hundred thousand hiding-places.

  Here’s yellowing paperwork enough,

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  Old dusty files where you can stuff

  Yourselves, old broken pots; and there,

  Those death’s-heads with their hollow stare.

  Where one’s all mouldering, only half alive,

  Bugs in the brain will always thrive.

  [He puts on the gown.]

  Come, robe, cover my shoulders as before!

  Today I am the boss once more.

  But though I claim such a position,

  What good is it without some recognition?

  [He pulls the bell, * which rings with a high-pitched, piercing clangour, making the halls tremble and the doors spring open.]

  A FAMULUS [tottering down the long dark passage].

  What a clang that bell is making!

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  Staircase shaking, walls all quaking!

  Through the trembling windows’ glimmer

  I can see the lightning shimmer.

  Splitting ceilings, cracking floors,

  Plaster, rubble, down it pours!

  And the door I locked so fast,

  Opened by this magic blast.—

  There! In Faust’s old pelt, horrendous,

  Stands a giant; heaven defend us!

  How he beckons, how he eyes me,

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  How his presence terrifies me!

  Shall I stay or shall I flee?

  What is to become of me?

  MEPHISTOPHELES [beckoning].

  Draw near, my friend!—Your name is Nicodemus.

  THE FAMULUS. Most reverend sir, it is indeed—oremus.

  MEPHISTOPHELES.

  We’ll leave that out.

  THE FAMULUS. So glad you recognize me!

  MEPHISTOPHELES.

  As your old mossy pate can yet apprize me,

  You’re still a student. What else can you do

  But just read on! That’s scholarship for you!

  One builds a modest card-house, there to sit;

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  Even great minds never quite finish it.

  But your master, now he’s a man of parts:

  We all know Wagner * doctor of all the arts,

  A noble man, a prince of scholars! He

  Alone sustains the academic mystery,

  And contributes to knowledge day by day;

 

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