Masters of the Theatre
Page 107
Her proud head she will have to bow,
And in white sheet do penance now!
MARGARET
But he will surely marry her?
BESSY
Not he!
He won’t be such a fool! a gallant lad
Like him can roam o’er land and sea;
Besides, he’s off.
MARGARET
That is not fair!
BESSY
If she should get him, ‘twere almost as bad!
Her myrtle wreath the boys would tear;
And then we girls would plague her too,
For we chopp’d straw before her door would strew!
[Exit.]
MARGARET (walking toward home)
How stoutly once I could inveigh,
If a poor maiden went astray;
Not words enough my tongue could find,
‘Gainst others’ sin to speak my mind!
Black as it seemed, I blacken’d it still more,
And strove to make it blacker than before.
And did myself securely bless —
Now my own trespass doth appear!
Yet ah! — what urg’d me to transgress,
God knows, it was so sweet, so dear!
ZWINGER
Inclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-pots before it.)
MARGARET (putting fresh flowers in the pots)
Ah, rich in sorrow, thou,
Stoop thy maternal brow,
And mark with pitying eye my misery!
The sword in thy pierced heart,
Thou dost with bitter smart
Gaze upwards on thy Son’s death agony.
To the dear God on high
Ascends thy piteous sigh,
Pleading for his and thy sore misery.
Ah, who can know
The torturing woe,
The pangs that rack me to the bone?
How my poor heart, without relief,
Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief
Thou knowest, thou alone!
Ah, wheresoe’er I go,
With woe, with woe, with woe,
My anguish’d breast is aching!
When all alone I creep,
I weep, I weep, I weep,
Alas! my heart is breaking!
The flower-pots at my window
Were wet with tears of mine,
The while I pluck’d these blossoms
At dawn to deck thy shrine!
When early in my chamber
Shone bright the rising morn,
I sat there on my pallet,
My heart with anguish torn.
Help! from disgrace and death deliver me!
Ah! rich in sorrow, thou,
Stoop thy maternal brow,
And mark with pitying eye my misery!
NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR
VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET’s brother)
When seated ‘mong the jovial crowd,
Where merry comrades boasting loud
Each named with pride his favorite lass,
And in her honor drain’d his glass;
Upon my elbows I would lean,
With easy quiet view the scene,
Nor give my tongue the rein, until
Each swaggering blade had talked his fill.
Then smiling I my beard would stroke,
The while, with brimming glass, I spoke;
“Each to his taste! — but to my mind,
Where in the country will you find,
A maid, as my dear Gretchen fair,
Who with my sister can compare?”
Cling! clang! so rang the jovial sound!
Shouts of assent went circling round;
Pride of her sex is she! — cried some;
Then were the noisy boasters dumb.
And now! — I could tear out my hair,
Or dash my brains out in despair! —
Me every scurvy knave may twit,
With stinging jest and taunting sneer!
Like skulking debtor I must sit,
And sweat each casual word to hear!
And though I smash’d them one and all, —
Yet them I could not liars call.
Who comes this way? who’s sneaking here?
If I mistake not, two draw near.
If he be one, have at him; — well I wot
Alive he shall not leave this spot!
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES
FAUST
How far from yon sacristy, athwart the night,
Its beams the ever-burning taper throws,
While ever waning, fades the glimmering light,
As gathering darkness doth around it close!
So night like gloom doth in my bosom reign.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m like a tom-cat in a thievish vein
That up fire-ladders tall and steep
And round the walls doth slyly creep;
Virtuous withal I feel, with, I confess.
A touch of thievish joy and wantonness.
Thus through my limbs already burns
The glorious Walpurgis night!
After tomorrow it returns;
Then why one wakes, one knows aright!
FAUST
Meanwhile, the treasure I see glimmering there.
Will it ascend into the open air?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ere long thou wilt proceed with pleasure
To raise the casket with its treasure;
I took a peep, therein are stored
Of lion-dollars a rich hoard.
FAUST
And not a trinket? not a ring?
Wherewith my lovely girl to deck?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I saw among them some such thing,
A string of pearls to grace her neck.
FAUST
’Tis well! I’m always loath to go,
Without some gift my love to show.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Some pleasures gratis to enjoy
Should surely cause you no annoy.
While bright with stars the heavens appear,
I’ll sing a masterpiece of art:
A moral song shall charm her ear,
More surely to beguile her heart.
(Sings to the guitar.)
Kathrina, say,
Why lingering stay
At dawn of day
Before your lover’s door?
Maiden, beware,
Nor enter there,
Lest forth you fare,
A maiden never more.
Maiden take heed!
Reck well my rede!
Is’t done, the deed?
Good night, you poor, poor thing!
The spoiler’s lies,
His arts despise,
Nor yield your prize,
Without the marriage ring!
VALENTINE (steps forward)
Whom are you luring here? I’ll give it you!
Accursed rat-catchers, your strains I’ll end!
First, to the devil the guitar I’ll send!
Then to the devil with the singer too!
MEPHISTOPHELES
The poor guitar! ’tis done for now.
VALENTINE
Your skull shall follow next, I trow!
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)
Doctor, stand fast! your strength collect!
Be prompt, and do as I direct.
Out with your whisk! keep close, I pray,
I’ll parry! do you thrust away!
VALENTINE
Then parry that!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Why not?
VALENTINE
That too!
MEPHISTOPHELES
With ease!
VALENTINE
The devil fights for you!
Why how is this? my hand’s already lamed!
MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)
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Thrust home!
VALENTINE (falls)
Alas!
MEPHISTOPHELES
There! Now the lubber’s tamed!
But quick, away! We must at once take wing;
A cry of murder strikes upon the ear;
With the police I know my course to steer,
But with the blood-ban ’tis another thing.
MARTHA (at the window)
Without! without!
MARGARET (at the window)
Quick, bring a light!
MARTHA (as above)
They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!
PEOPLE
One lieth here already dead!
MARTHA (coming out)
Where are the murderers? are they fled?
MARGARET (coming out)
Who lieth here?
PEOPLE
Thy mother’s son.
MARGARET
Almighty God! I am undone!
VALENTINE
I’m dying— ’tis a soon-told tale,
And sooner done the deed.
Why, women, do ye howl and wail?
To my last words give heed!
[All gather round him.]
My Gretchen, see! still young art thou,
Art not discreet enough, I trow,
Thou dost thy matters ill;
Let this in confidence be said:
Since thou the path of shame dost tread,
Tread it with right good will!
MARGARET
My brother! God! what can this mean?
VALENTINE
Abstain,
Nor dare God’s holy name profane!
What’s done, alas, is done and past!
Matters will take their course at last;
By stealth thou dost begin with one,
Others will follow him anon;
And when a dozen thee have known,
Thou’lt common be to all the town.
When infamy is newly born,
In secret she is brought to light,
And the mysterious veil of night
O’er head and ears is drawn;
The loathsome birth men fain would slay;
But soon, full grown, she waxes bold,
And though not fairer to behold,
With brazen front insults the day:
The more abhorrent to the sight,
The more she courts the day’s pure light,
The time already I discern,
When thee all honest folk will spurn,
And shun thy hated form to meet,
As when a corpse infects the street.
Thy heart will sink in blank despair,
When they shall look thee in the face!
A golden chain no more thou’lt wear!
Nor near the altar take in church thy place!
In fair lace collar simply dight
Thou’lt dance no more with spirits light!
In darksome corners thou wilt bide,
Where beggars vile and cripples hide,
And e’en though God thy crime forgive,
On earth, a thing accursed, thou’lt live!
MARTHA
Your parting soul to God commend!
Your dying breath in slander will you spend?
VALENTINE
Could I but reach thy wither’d frame,
Thou wretched beldame, void of shame!
Full measure I might hope to win
Of pardon then for every sin.
MARGARET
Brother! what agonizing pain!
VALENTINE
I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
’Twas thy dishonor pierced my heart,
Thy fall the fatal death-stab gave.
Through the death-sleep I now depart
To God, a soldier true and brave.
[Dies.]
CATHEDRAL
Service, Organ, and Anthem.
MARGARET amongst a number of people
EVIL-SPIRIT behind MARGARET
EVIL-SPIRIT
How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee,
When thou, still full of innocence,
Here to the altar camest,
And from the small and well-con’d book
Didst lisp thy prayer,
Half childish sport,
Half God in thy young heart!
Gretchen!
What thoughts are thine?
What deed of shame
Lurks in thy sinful heart?
Is thy prayer utter’d for thy mother’s soul,
Who into long, long torment slept through thee?
Whose blood is on thy threshold? —
And stirs there not already ‘neath thy heart
Another quick’ning pulse, that even now
Tortures itself and thee
With its foreboding presence?
MARGARET
Woe! Woe!
Oh, could I free me from the thoughts
That hither, thither, crowd upon my brain,
Against my will!
CHORUS
Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet sæclum in favilla.
[The organ sounds.]
EVIL-SPIRIT
Grim horror seizes thee!
The trumpet sounds!
The graves are shaken!
And thy heart
From ashy rest
For torturing flames
Anew created,
Trembles into life!
MARGARET
Would I were hence!
It is as if the organ
Choked my breath,
As if the choir
Melted my inmost heart!
CHORUS
Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet adparebit, Nil inultum remanebit.
MARGARET
I feel oppressed!
The pillars of the wall
Imprison me!
The vaulted roof
Weighs down upon me! — air!
EVIL-SPIRIT
Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
Remain not hidden!
Air! light!
Woe’s thee!
CHORUS
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus! Cum vix justus sit securus.
EVIL-SPIRIT
The glorified their faces turn
Away from thee!
Shudder the pure to reach
Their hands to thee!
Woe!
CHORUS
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus —
MARGARET
Neighbor! your smelling bottle!
[She swoons away.]
WALPURGIS-NIGHT
THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. DISTRICT OF SCHIERKE AND ELEND
FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES
MEPHISTOPHELES
A broomstick dost thou not at least desire?
The roughest he-goat fain would I bestride,
By this road from our goal we’re still far wide.
FAUST
While fresh upon my legs, so long I naught require,
Except this knotty staff. Beside,
What boots it to abridge a pleasant way?
Along the labyrinth of these vales to creep,
Then scale these rocks, whence, in eternal spray,
Adown the cliffs the silvery fountains leap:
Such is the joy that seasons paths like these!
Spring weaves already in the birchen trees;
E’en the late pine-grove feels her quickening powers;
Should she not work within these limbs of ours?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Naught of this genial influence do I know!
Within me all is wintry. Frost and snow
I should prefer my dismal path to bound.
How sadly, yonder, with belated glow
Rises the ruddy moon’s imperfect round,
Shedding so faint a light, at every tread
One’s sure to stumble ‘gainst a rock or tree!
An Ignis Fatuus I m
ust call instead.
Yonder one burning merrily, I see.
Holla! my friend! may I request your light?
Why should you flare away so uselessly?
Be kind enough to show us up the height!
IGNIS FATUUS
Through reverence, I hope I may subdue
The lightness of my nature; true,
Our course is but a zigzag one.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Ho! ho!
So men, forsooth, he thinks to imitate!
Now, in the devil’s name, for once go straight!
Or out at once your flickering life I’ll blow.
IGNIS FATUUS
That you are master here is obvious quite;
To do your will, I’ll cordially essay;
Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad tonight;
And if to show the path you choose a meteor’s light,
You must not wonder should we go astray.
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (in alternate song)
Through the dream and magic-sphere,
As it seems, we now are speeding;
Honor win, us rightly leading,
That betimes we may appear
In yon wide and desert region!
Trees on trees, a stalwart legion,
Swiftly past us are retreating,
And the cliffs with lowly greeting;
Rocks long-snouted, row on row,
How they snort, and how they blow!
Through the stones and heather springing,
Brook and brooklet haste below;
Hark the rustling! Hark the singing!
Hearken to love’s plaintive lays;
Voices of those heavenly days —
What we hope, and what we love!
Like a tale of olden time,
Echo’s voice prolongs the chime.
To-whit! To-who! It sounds more near;
Plover, owl, and jay appear,
All awake, around, above?
Paunchy salamanders too
Peer, long-limbed, the bushes through!
And, like snakes, the roots of trees
Coil themselves from rock and sand,
Stretching many a wondrous band,
Us to frighten, us to seize;
From rude knots with life embued,
Polyp-fangs abroad they spread,
To snare the wanderer! ‘Neath our tread,
Mice, in myriads, thousand-hued,
Through the heath and through the moss!
And the fire-flies’ glittering throng,
Wildering escort, whirls along,
Here and there, our path across.
Tell me, stand we motionless,
Or still forward do we press?
All things round us whirl and fly,
Rocks and trees make strange grimaces,
Dazzling meteors change their places —
How they puff and multiply!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Now grasp my doublet — we at last
A central peak have reached, which shows,
If round a wondering glance we cast,
How in the mountain Mammon glows.