Witches’ Kitchen.

A caldron is seen boiling on a low hearth. Numbers of strange fantastic figures tumbling up and down in the smoke. A Mother-Cat-Ape sits beside the caldron, taking off the scum, and keeping it from boiling over. An Old Cat-Ape beside her warming himself with his young ones. Roof and walls are covered over with a strange assortment of furniture, and implements used by witches.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Faust. I cannot brook this brainless bedlam stuff! And must it be that I shall cast my slough In this hotbed of all unreasoned doing? Shall an old beldam give me what I lack? And can her pots and pans, with all their brewing, Shake off full thirty summers from my back? Woe’s me, if thou canst boast no better scheme! My brightest hopes are vanished as a dream. Has Nature then, and has some noble Spirit, No balsam for the body to repair it?

Mephistopheles. My friend, with your great sense I cannot but be smitten! Nature, too, boasts a plan to renovate your age; But in a wondrous volume it is written, And wondrous is the chapter and the page.

Faust. But I must know it.

Mephistopheles. Good! the poorest man may try it, Without or witch, or quack, or gold to buy it; And yet it works a certain cure. Go take thee with the peasant to the moor, And straight begin to hew and hack; Confine thee there, with patient mood, Within the narrow beaten track, And nourish thee with simplest food; Live with the brute a brute, and count it not too low To dung the corn-fields thine own hands shall mow; Than this I know on earth no med’cine stronger, To make, by fourscore years, both soul and body younger!

Faust. I was not trained to this—was never made To labor with the pick-axe and the spade; Such narrow round of life I may not brook.

Mephistopheles. Then you must look into another book, And be content to take the witch for cook.

Faust. But why this self-same ugly Jezebel? Could you not brew the drink yourself as well?

Mephistopheles. A precious pastime that indeed! meanwhile I had built bridges many a German mile. Not art, and science strict, are here enough, But patience too, and perseverance tough. A thoughtful soul toils on through many a silent year. Time only makes the busy ferment clear, Besides that the ingredients all Are passing strange and mystical! ’Tis true the devil taught them how to do it, But not the devil with his own hands can brew it. [Looking at the Cat-Apes.] Lo! what a tiny gay parade! Here’s the man, and there’s the maid! [Addressing them.] It seems that your good mother has gone out?

The Cat-Apes. Up the chimney, Went she out, To a drinking bout!

Mephistopheles. Is it her wont to gossip long without?

The Animals. As long as we sit here and warm our feet.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust] What think you of the brutes? are they not neat?

Faust. I never saw such tasteless would-be-drolls!

Mephistopheles. Pooh! pooh!—I know no greater delectation On earth, than such a merry conversation. [To the brutes.] Now let us hear, you pretty dolls, What are you stirring there in the pot?

The Brutes. Soup for beggars, hissing and hot, Thin and watery, that’s the stew.

Mephistopheles. Your customers will not be few.

The Father Cat-Ape. [comes up and fawns upon Mephistopheles] Come rattle the dice, Make me rich in a trice, Come, come, let me gain! My case is so bad, It scarce could be worse: Were I right in my purse, I’d be right in my brain!

Mephistopheles. How happy would the apish creature be, To buy a ticket in the lottery!

[Meanwhile the young Cat-Apes have been playing with a large globe, and roll it forwards.

The Father Cat-Ape. Such is the world, So doth it go, Up and down, To and fro! Like glass it tinkles, Like glass it twinkles, Breaks in a minute, Has nothing within it; Here it sparkles, There it darkles, I am alive! My dear son, I say, Keep out of the way! If you don’t strive, You will die, you will die! It is but of clay, And in pieces will fly!

Mephistopheles. What make you with the sieve?

The Father Cat-Ape. [bringing down the sieve] When comes a thief, On the instant we know him. [He runs off to the Mother Cat-Ape, and lets her look through the sieve.] Look through the sieve! See’st thou the thief, And fearest to show him?

Mephistopheles. [coming near the fire] And this pot?

Father Cat-Ape and his Wife. The silly sot! He knows not the pot! And he knows not The kettle, the sot!

Mephistopheles. You ill-bred urchin, you!

The Father Cat-Ape. Come, sit thee down, We’ll give thee a crown, And a sceptre too!

[He obliges Mephistopheles to sit down, and gives him a long brush for a sceptre.

Faust. [Who, while Mephistopheles was engaged with the animals, Faust had been standing before a mirror, alternately approaching it and retiring from it.] What see I here? what heavenly image bright, Within this magic mirror, chains my sight? O Love, the swiftest of thy pinions lend me, That where she is in rapture I may bend me! Alas! when I would move one step more near, To breathe her balmy atmosphere, She seems to melt and disappear, And cheats my longing eye. Oh she is fair beyond all type of human! Is’t possible; can this be simple woman? There lies she, on that downy couch reposing, Within herself the heaven of heavens enclosing! Can it then be that earth a thing so fair contains?

Mephistopheles. Of course: for when a god has vexed his brains For six long days, and, when his work is done, Says bravo to himself, is it a wonder He should make one fair thing without a blunder? For this time give thine eyes their pleasure; I know how to procure you such an one, Whence thou mayst drink delight in brimming measure, And blest the man, for whom Fate shall decide, To lead home such a treasure as his bride! [Faust continues gazing on the mirror. Mephistopheles stretches himself on the arm-chair, and, playing with the brush, goes on as follows:] Here, from my throne, a monarch, I look down: My sceptre this: I wait to get my crown.

The Animals. [Who had in the interval been wheeling about with strange antic gestures, bring a crown to Mephistopheles, with loud shouts.] O be but so good, With sweat and with blood, Your crown to glue, As monarchs do! [They use the crown rather roughly, in consequence of which it falls into two pieces, with which they jump about.] O sorrow and shame! ’Tis broken, no doubt: But we’ll make a name, When our poem comes out!

Faust. [gazing on the mirror] Woe’s me! her beauty doth my wits confound.

Mephistopheles. [pointing to the Brutes] And even my good brain is whirling round and round.

The Brutes. And if we well speed, As speed well we ought, We are makers indeed, We are moulders of thought.

Faust. [as above] I burn, I burn! this rapturous glow Consumes me sheer!—come, let us go!

Mephistopheles. [as above] One must, at least, confess that they Are honest poets in their way.

[The kettle, which had been neglected by the Mother Cat-Ape begins to boil over: A great flame arises, and runs up the chimney. The Witch comes through the flame, down the chimney, with a terrible noise.

The Witch. Ow! ow! ow! ow! Thou damnèd brute! thou cursèd sow! To leave the kettle and singe the frow! Thou cursed imp, thou! [Turning to Faust and Mephistopheles.] What’s this here now? Who are you? who are you? What’s here ado? Ye are scouts! ye are scouts! Out with the louts! A fiery arrow Consume your marrow!

[She plunges the ladle into the kettle, and spurts out flame on Faust, Mephistopheles, and the Brutes. These last whine.

Mephistopheles. [Who, in the meantime, had turned round the butt-end of the brush, now dashes in amongst the pots and glasses.] In two! in two! There lies the broth! The glass and the kettle, Shiver them both! ’Tis a jest, thou must know, Thou carrion crow! ’Tis a tune to keep time, To thy senseless rhyme. [While the Witch, foaming with rage and fury, draws back.] What! know’st me not? thou scrag! thou Jezebel! Thy lord and master? thou should’st know me well. What hinders me, in all my strength to come And crush you and your cat-imps ’neath my thumb? Know’st not the scarlet-doublet, mole-eyed mother? Bow’st not the knee before the famed cock’s feather? Use your old eyes; behind a mask Did I conceal my honest face? And when I come here must I ask A special introduction to your Grace?

The Witch. O my liege lord! forgive the rough salute! I did not see the horse’s foot: And where too have you left your pair of ravens?

Mephistopheles. For this time you may thank the heavens That you have made so cheap an escape; ’Tis some time since I saw your face, And things since then have moved apace. The march of modern cultivation, That licks the whole world into shape, Has reached the Devil. In this wise generation The Northern phantom is no longer seen, And horns and tail and claws have been. And for my hoof, with which I can’t dispense, In good society ’twould give great offence; Therefore, like many a smart sprig of nobility, I use false calves to trick out my gentility.

The Witch. [dancing] Heyday! it almost turns my brain To see Squire Satan here again!

Mephistopheles. Woman, you must not call me by that name!

The Witch. And wherefore not? I see no cause for shame.

Mephistopheles. That name has had its station long assigned With Mother Bunch; and yet I cannot see Men are much better for the want of me. The wicked one is gone, the wicked stay behind. Call me now Baron, less than that were rude— I am a cavalier like other cavaliers; My line is noble, and my blood is good; Here is a coat of arms that all the world reveres.

[He makes an indecent gesture.

The Witch. [laughing immoderately] Ha! ha! now I perceive Old Nick is here! You are a rogue still, as you always were.

Mephistopheles. [aside to Faust] My friend, I give you here, your wit to whet, A little lesson in witch-etiquette.

The Witch. Now say, good sirs, what would you have with me?

Mephistopheles. A glass of your restoring liquor, That makes an old man’s blood run quicker: And bring the best out from your bins; With years the juice in virtue wins.

The Witch. Most willingly. Here I have got a phial Of which myself at times make trial: ’Tis now a pleasant mellow potion; You shall not meet with a denial. [Softly.] Yet if this worthy man drinks it without precaution, His life can’t stand an hour against its strong infection.

Mephistopheles. Leave that to me; he’s under my protection, Ripe for the draught; no harm will come to him.

[The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a circle and places many curious things within it; meanwhile the glasses begin to tinkle, and the kettle to sound and make music. She brings a large book, puts the Cat-Apes into the circle, and makes them serve as a desk to lay the book on, and hold the torches. She motions to Faust to come near.

Faust. [to Mephistopheles] Now say, what would she with this flummery? These antic gestures, this wild bedlam-stuff, This most insipid of all mummery, I know it well, I hate it well enough.

Mephistopheles. Pshaw, nonsense! come, give up your sermonizing, And learn to understand what a good joke is! Like other quacks, she plays her hocus-pocus; It gives the juice a virtue most surprising!

[He obliges Faust to enter the circle.

The Witch. [declaiming from the book with great emphasis] Now be exact! Of one make ten, Then two subtract, And add three then, This makes thee rich. Four shalt thou bate, Of five and six, So says the Witch, Make seven and eight, And all is done. And nine is one, And ten is none; Here take and spell, if you are able, The Witches’ multiplication table.

Faust. This is a jargon worse than Babel; Say, is she fevered? is she mad?

Mephistopheles. O never fear! the rest is quite as bad; I know the book, and oft have vexed my brains With bootless labor on its rhymes and rules; A downright contradiction still remains, Mysterious alike for wise men and for fools. My friend, the art is old and new; Ancient and modern schools agree With three and one, and one and three Plain to perplex, and false inweave with true. So they expound, discourse, dispute, debate; What man of sense would plague him with their prate? Men pin their faith to words, in sounds high sapience weening, Though words were surely made to have a meaning.

The Witch. [Goes on reading from the book] The soul to know Beneath the show, And view it without blinking; The simple mind The craft will find, Without the toil of thinking.

Faust. What flood of nonsense now she’s pouring o’er us? She’ll split my skull with her insensate chatter. I feel as if I heard the ceaseless clatter Of thirty thousand idiots in a chorus.

Mephistopheles. Enough, kind Sibyl; thanks for thy good will! Now bring your jug here, and the goblet fill With this prime juice, till it be brimming o’er. My friend here is a man of high degrees, And will digest the draught with ease. He has swilled many a goodly glass before.

[The Witch, with many ceremonies, pours the beverage into a cup. While Faust brings it to his mouth a light flame arises.

Mephistopheles. Come, quaff it boldly, without thinking! The draught will make thy heart to burn with love. Art with the Devil hand and glove, And from a fire-spurt would’st be shrinking?

[The Witch looses the circle. Faust steps out.

Mephistopheles. Come quickly out; you must not rest.

The Witch. I hope the swig will wonders work on thee!

Mephistopheles. And you, if you have aught to beg of me, Upon Walpurgis’ night make your request.

The Witch. Here is a song! at times sung, you will find It hath a wondrous working on your mind.

Mephistopheles. [to Faust] Come, yield thee now to my desire; Be meek for once, and own the bridle. You must keep quiet, and let yourself perspire, That through your inmost frame the potent juice may pierce. When we have time to spare, I will rehearse Some lessons on the art of being nobly idle; And soon thy heart with ecstasy shall know, How Cupid ’gins to stir, and boundeth to and fro.

Faust. [Turning again towards the mirror] Indulge me with one glance!—one moment spare! It was a virgin-form surpassing fair!

Mephistopheles. No! No! with my good aid thou soon shalt see The paragon of women bodily. [Aside.] Anon, if this good potion does its duty, He’ll see in every wench the Trojan beauty.