EGLE.
If who will let thee? Say, why talk in this mysterious
And unaccustomed tone? Be not so shy and serious!
Is’t Eridon?
AMINA.
Yes, he!
EGLE.
I thought that it was so.
Thou fool! and will thy wrongs ne’er make thee wiser grow?
Thou hast a promise made that thou with him wilt stay,
And pass in tears and sighs such a delightful day?
He’s flattered, child, when thou for all his whims thus carest.
(After a pause, whilst she makes signs to LAMON.)
Yet thou far better lookest when thou the garland wearest.
Come, put it on! and hang the other o’er thee thus!
Thou’rt charming now.
AMINA stands with downcast eyes, and lets EGLE have her way. EGLE gives a sign to LAMON.)
But, ah! ’tis fully time for us
To join the march.
LAMON.
Quite right! My dearest child, adieu l
AMINA (sorrowfully).
Farewell!
EGLE (departing).
Amina! now, wilt thou join us, too?
(AMINA looks at her sadly, and is silent.)
LAMON (taking EGLE by the hand to lead her off).
O — leave her to herself! With spite I’m fit to die;
The charming dance she’ll spoil with her perversity!
The dance both right and left, she knows it all by heart;
I — I — fully thought that she would take her proper part.
She’ll stop at home now! Come, I’ve nothing more to say.
EGLE.
Thou dost forego the dance! I pity thee to-day.
He dances well! Good-bye!
(EGLE seeks to kiss AMINA. AMINA. falls on her neck, and weeps.)
AMINA.
Complete is my dismay.
EGLE..
Thou weepest.
AMINA.
My saddened heart in grief despairing sinks!
I fain would... Eridon, I hate thee now, methinks!
EGLE.
He merits it. But no! A lover who e’er hated?
Love him thou shouldst, nor let thyself be subjugated.
I long have told thee this. Come!
LAMON.
Join the dance with me!
AMINA.
And Eridon?
EGLE.
Now go! I’ll stay! He’ll yield, thou’lt see,
And join thee. Say, would this afford thee any pleasure?
AMINA.
Immense I
LAMON.
Now come! Dost hear the shawm’s soft, dulcet measure?
The charming melody?
(He takes AMINA by the hand, and sings and dances.)
EGLE (sings).
If ever a lover with jealousy vile
Annoys thee, complains of a nod or a smile,
Accuses of falsehood or other invention,
Then sing thou, and dance thou, and pay no attention.
(L ELMON carries AMINA off with him to the dance.)
AMINA (as she goes).
Fail not in thy persuasion!
SCENE VIII.
EGLE, and presently ERIDON, with a flute and songs.
EGLE
’Tis well! We soon shall see! I long have sought occasion
This shepherd to convert, and make his ways more courtly.
To-day’s my wish fulfilled; I’ll teach thee manners shortly I’ll show thee who thou art; and at the least suggestion —
He comes! List, Eridon!
ERIDON,
Where is she?
EGLE.
What a question!
With Lamon yonder, where thou hearest the cornets blow.
ERIDON (throwing his flute on the ground and tearing the songs).
Vile infidelity!
EGLE.
Art mad?
ERIDON.
I should be so.
The hypocrite first tears the garland from her brow
With smiling face, and says: I will not dance, dear, now!
Did I insist on that? And... O!
(He stamps with his foot, and throws the torn songs away.)
EGLE (in a composed voice).
Let me inquire
What right hast thou to make her from the dance retire?
Thou wishest that a heart, which with thy love is filled,
Should know no other joys than those by thee instilled?
Dost think all impulses for pleasure are suppressed,
As soon as thoughts of love pervade a maiden’s breast?
Enough, if she to thee her dearest hours will give,
On thee, when absent, think, with thee would ever live.
’Tis folly, then, my friend, in grief to make her dwell;
So let her love the dance, and games, and thee, as well.
ERIDON (dropping his arms and looking up).
Ah!
EGLE.
Tell me, dost thou deem that any love is shown
By keeping her with thee?’ Tis slavery alone.
Thou comest: at the fête no other she may see,
Thou goest: and forthwith she needs must go with thee;
She lingers: straightway thou dost give her looks unkind;
She follows thee, but oft her heart is left behind.
ERIDON.
Perhaps always!
EGLE.
People hear, when bitter words are said,
There where no freedom is, all joys will soon be dead.
Thus are we made. A child a few words may have sung;
You bid him sing away. He starts and holds his tongue.
If thou her freedom leavest, her love thou’st forfeit ne’er;
If thou behavest too ill, she’ll hate thee; so beware!
ERIDON.
She’ll hate me?
EGLE.
Rightly too. Then seize a day like this,
And for thyself procure love’s tenderness and bliss!
None but a tender heart, by its own glow impelled,
Can constant be, by love incessantly upheld.
Confess now, canst thou tell if any bird is true,
When kept within a cage?
ERIDON.
No!
EGLE.
If, with freedom new
It flies o’er gardens, fields, and yet to thee returns?
ERIDON.
Quite right, I understand!
EGLE.
What rapture in thee burns,
To see the little thing, which loves thee tenderly,
Its freedom know, and yet the preference give to thee!
And if thy maiden e’er, excited by the dance,
From any fête comes back, and seeks thee, while each glance
Betrays that all her joys imperfect bliss supply,
While thou, her lover, thou, her own one, art not by;
If she will then declare one kiss of thine to be
More than a thousand fêtes: who would not envy thee?
IDON (moved).
O Egle!
EGLE.
Tremble lest the gods should take amiss
That one so blest as thou so little knows his bliss!
Up! Be contented, friend! Or they’ll the tears that flow
From that poor maid, avenge.
ERIDON.
Could I accustomed grow,
To see how in the dance her hands so many press, —
While this one ogles her, she looks at that one! Yes,
When I on this reflect, my heart feels like to break!
EGLE.
What nonsense! What a fuss for trifles thou dost mate!
Theresa nothing in a kiss!
ERIDON.
A kiss is naught, sayest thou?
EGLE.
Methinks that in his heart there is some feeling now,
If thus he talks. But say, wilt thou forgive her, friend?
For
when thou art displeased, her sorrow knows no end.
ERIDON.
Ah, friend!
EGLE (flatteringly).
This will not do! Thou also art a lover
Farewell! (She takes him by the hand).
Thou’rt all aglow!
ERIDON.
My blood is boiling over —
EGLE.
With anger still? Enough! Thy pardon now has she.
I’ll hasten to her straight. She’ll trembling ask for thee;
I’ll tell her: he is kind; composure this will give her,
Her heart will softer beat, she’ll love thee more than ever,
(She looks at him sentimentally.)
She’ll surely seek thee out when ended is the feast,
And by the search itself her love will be increased.
(EGLE affects still more tenderness, and leans upon his shoulder. lie takes her hand and kisses it.)
She’ll find thee presently! O what a moment this!
Press her against thy breast and feel thy perfect bliss!
A maid, when dancing, looks more fair, her cheeks are glowing.
Her mouth is wreathed with smiles, her loosened locks are flowing
Over her heaving breast, more tender charms enhance
The beauties of her form, when whirling in the dance;
Her throbbing pulses glow, and as her body sways,
Each nerve appears to thrill and greater life displays.
(She pretends to feel a tender rapture, and sinks upon hi breast, whilst he places his arm around her waist.)
The bliss of seeing this what rapture can excel?
Thou’lt go not to the fête, and therefore canst not tell.
ERIDON.
Dear friend, upon thy breast I feel it all too well!
He falls upon EGLE’S neck and kisses her, while she offers no resistance. She then steps back a few paces, and asks in an indifferent tone.)
Lovest thou Amina?
ERIDON.
As myself!
EGLE.
Yet darest thou
To kiss me? Thou shalt pay the penalty, I vow!
Thou faithless man!
ERIDON.
But what dost thou suppose that I — —
EGLE.
Yes, I suppose it all. My friend, right tenderly
Thou kissedst me, ’tis true. Therewith I’m well content.
Was my kiss good? No doubt: thy hot lips prove assent.
And ask for more. Poor child! Amina, wert thou here Î
ERIDON.
I would she were!
EGLE.
How vain! She’d wretched be, poor dear!
ERIDON.
Ay she would scold me well. Thou must betray me not.
I’ve kissed thee, but that kiss will not hurt her a jot;
And if Amina give me kisses most enchanting,
May I not feel that thine in rapture are not wanting?
EGLE.
Best ask herself.
SCENE IX.
AMINA, EGLE, ERIDOX.
ERIDON.
Woe’s me!
AMINA.
I long to see him so!
My own dear Eridon! ’Twas Egle made me go.
Alas, I broke my word; my friend, I’ll go not now.
ERIDON (aside).
Wretch that I am!
AMINA.
Thou’rt wroth? thy face avertest thou?
ERIDON (aside).
What can I say?
AMINA.
Alas! Is all this anger due
For such a little fault? Thou’rt in the right, ’tis true,
And yet —
EGLE.
O let him go! He gave me such a kiss I
And likes it still.
AMINA.
Kissed thee?
EGLE.
Right tenderly!
AMINA.
Ah, this
Too much is for my heart! Thy love is thus unsteady?
Unhappy I! My friend deserteth me already!
Who kisses other maids, his own will shortly fly.
Ah! since I thee have loved, like this ne’er acted I;
To try to reach my lips, no youth has been so daring;
E’en when I forfeits played my kisses have been sparing.
My heart as much as thine is plagued by jealousy,
Yet I’ll forgive thee all, if thou wilt turn to me.
And yet, poor heart, in vain art thou so well protected!
No love for me he feels, since he thy wiles suspected.
The mighty advocate for thee in vain doth plead.
ERIDON.
What long tenderness! How vast my shame, indeed!
AMINA.
My friend, oh, how couldst thou seduce away my lover?
EGLE.
Be comforted, good child! Thy woes will soon be over.
Well know I Eridon, and know that he is true.
AMINA.
And has —
EGLE.
Ay, thou art right, and he has kissed me, too.
I know how it occurred; his fault thou mayest condone.
How deeply he repents!
ERIDON (falling down before AMINA).
Amina! O my own!
Oh, blame her! she appeared so pretty when I kissed
Her mouth was very close, and I could not resist.
Yet, if thou knowest me well, thou pardon must impart;
A little joy like that will not despoil my heart.
EGLE.
Amina, kiss him, since he answers so discreetly!
Despite those little joys, ye love each other sweetly.
To ERIDON.
My friend, thou on thyself must judgment pass this time
Although she loves the dance, thou see’st that is no crime.
(Mocking him.)
If in the dance a youth her hand may chance to press, —
While this one ogles her, she looks at that one, — yes,
Of even this, thou knowest, thou oughtest not to complain
I trust that thou wilt ne’er Amina plague again.
Methinks thou’lt with us go.
AMINA.
Come, join the fête.
ERIDON.
I will;
A kiss has been my cure.
EGLE (to AMINA).
Thou’lt take that kiss not ill.
Should jealousy again his bosom seek to kindle,
Remind him of that kiss, and ‘twill to nothing dwindle. —
And, O ye jealous ones, if maidens plague you e’er,
Recall your own false tricks, and blame them, if ye dare.
THE FELLOW CULPRITS
Translated by Edgar A. Bowring
This one-act comedy was written from November 1768 to February 1769. It premiered on January 9, 1777, with Goethe in the role of Alcest in the Weimar Grosskochberg. The witty play was written during Goethe’s residence at Leipzig; though it was improved at intervals, until it was printed in Goethe’s collected works. That Goethe considered it of some importance is shown by the fact that it was one of the plays he allowed the amateur company at the court of Weimar to perform.
Weimarer Liebhabertheater, where the comedy was first performed
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
SCENE VI.
SCENE VII.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
SCENE IV.
SCENE V.
SCENE VI.
SCENE VII.
SCENE VIII.
SCENE IX.
SCENE X.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The
HOST. — ALCESTES.
SOPHIA, his daughter.
A WAITER.
SOLLER, her husband.
The Scene is in the Inn.
The Fellow Culprits
ACT I.
SCENE I.
The Inn Parlour.
SOLLER, in a domino at a table, with a bottle of wine before him. SOPHIA, opposite him, sewing a white feather on to a hat. The HOST enters. At the back of the stage is a table with pen, ink, and paper. A large easy-chair is near it.
HOST.
ANOTHER ball! My son, I’m sick of all this riot;
I thought that by this time you’d like a little quiet.
I certainly ne’er gave my daughter’s hand to you,
To see my hard-won cash so recklessly run through.
I’m getting old, and sought my forces to recruit;
Assistance wanted I, and so allow’d your suit:
A nice assistance yours, to waste each little earning.
(SOLLER hums a tune to himself)
Yes, sing away! You’ll soon another song be learning.
A good-for-nothing chap, whose folly few men’s matches,
Plays, drinks, tobacco smokes, and plots of all kinds hatches.
You revel all the night, are half the day in bed:
No prince throughout the land an easier life e’er led.
There the adventurer sits, with spreading sleeves.
Ha! ha!
The king of coxcombs he!
SOLLER (drinks).
I drink your health, papa!
HOST.
You drink my health, indeed! Enough to give me fever!
SOPHIA.
My father, pray be kind!
SOLLER (drinks).
Soph, happy be for ever!
SOPHIA.
Be happy! Ah, could I but see you two agree!
HOST.
Unless he changes much, that certainly can’t be.
I’ve long indeed been sick of these disputes eternal;
But while he thus behaves, the nuisance is infernal.
He is a wicked man, cold, thankless to the last;
He sees not what he is, remembers not the past:
The poverty from which I saved him, he forgets,
And my munificence in paying all his debts.
Distress, repentance, time, no change in him have wrought:
The man who’s once a scamp is always good for nought.
SOPHIA.
He’ll surely change some day.
HOST.
He little hurry shows.
SOPHIA.
’Tis but the way of youth.
SOLLER (drinks).
To all we love, here goes!
HOST.
In at one ear, forsooth, and at the other out.
He doesn’t hear me. I a cipher am, no doubt.
I now for twenty years an honour’d life have led:
What I have saved, you hope to make your own instead,
Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Page 159