A small neat Chamber.

Margaret. [Plaiting and putting up her hair.] I wonder who the gentleman could be, That on the street accosted me to-day! He looked a gallant cavalier and gay, And must be of a noble family; That I could read upon his brow— Else had he never been so free. [Exit.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. Come in—but softly—we are landed now!

Faust. [after a pause] Leave me alone a minute, I entreat!

Mephistopheles. [looking round about] Not every maiden keeps her room so neat. [Exit.

Faust. [looking round] Be greeted, thou sweet twilight-shine! Through this chaste sanctuary shed! Oh seize my heart, sweet pains of love divine, That on the languid dew of hope are fed! What sacred stillness holds the air! What order, what contentment rare! [He throws himself on the old leathern arm-chair beside the bed.] Receive thou me! thou, who, in ages gone, In joy and grief hast welcomed sire and son. How often round this old paternal throne, A clambering host of playful children hung! Belike that here my loved one too hath clung To her hoar grandsire’s neck, with childish joy Thankful received the yearly Christmas toy, And with the full red cheeks of childhood pressed Upon his withered hand a pious kiss. I feel, sweet maid, mine inmost soul possessed By thy calm spirit of order and of bliss, That motherly doth teach thee day by day: That bids thee deck the table clean and neat, And crisps the very sand strewn at thy feet. Sweet hand! sweet, lovely hand! where thou dost sway, The meanest hut is decked in heaven’s array. And here! [He lifts up the bed-curtain.] O Heaven, what strange o’ermastering might Thrills every sense with fine delight! Here might I gaze unwearied day and night. Nature! in airy dreams here didst thou build The mortal hull of the angelic child; Here she reposed! her tender bosom teeming With warmest life, in buoyant fulness streaming, And here, with pulse of gently gracious power, The heaven-born bud was nursed into a flower!

And thou! what brought thee here? why now backshrinks Thy courage from the prize it sought before? What wouldst thou have? Thy heart within thee sinks; Poor wretched Faust! thou know’st thyself no more.

Do I then breathe a magic atmosphere? I sought immediate enjoyment here, And into viewless dreams my passion flows! Are we the sport of every breath that blows? If now she came, and found me gazing here, How for this boldfaced presence must I pay! The mighty man, how small would he appear, And at her feet, a suppliant, sink away!

Mephistopheles. [coming back] Quick! quick! I see her—she’ll be here anon.

Faust. Yes, let’s be gone! for once and all be gone!

Mephistopheles. Here is a casket, of a goodly weight; Its former lord, I ween, bewails its fate. Come, put it in the press. I swear She’ll lose her senses when she sees it there. The trinkets that I stowed within it Were bait meant for a nobler prey: But child is child, and play is play!

Faust. I know not—shall I?

Mephistopheles. Can you doubt a minute? Would you then keep the dainty pelf, Like an old miser, to yourself? If so, I would advise you, sir, To spare your squire the bitter toil, And with some choicer sport the hour beguile Than looking lustfully at her. I scratch my head and rub my hands that you— [He puts the casket into the cupboard, and locks the door again.] Come, let’s away!— With this sweet piece of womanhood may do, As will may sway; And you stand there, And gape and stare, As if you looked into a lecture-room, And there with awe The twin grey spectres bodily saw, Physics and Metaphysics! Come!

[Exeunt.

Enter Margaret, with a lamp.

Margaret. It is so sultry here, so hot! [She opens the window.] And yet so warm without ’tis not. I feel—I know not how—oppressed; Would to God that my mother came! A shivering cold runs o’er my frame— I’m but a silly timid girl at best! [While taking off her clothes, she sings.]

There was a king in Thule, True-hearted to his grave: To him his dying lady A golden goblet gave.

He prized it more than rubies; At every drinking-bout His eyes they swam in glory, When he would drain it out.

On his death-bed he counted His cities one by one; Unto his heirs he left them; The bowl he gave to none.

He sat amid his barons, And feasted merrily, Within his father’s castle, That beetles o’er the sea.

There stood the old carouser, And drank his life’s last glow; Then flung the goblet over Into the sea below.

He saw it fall, and gurgling Sink deep into the sea; His eyes they sank in darkness; No bumper more drank he.

[She opens the cupboard to put in her clothes, and sees the casket.] How came the pretty casket here? no doubt I locked the press when I went out. ’Tis really strange!—Belike that it was sent A pledge for money that my mother lent. Here hangs the key; sure there can be no sin In only looking what may be within. What have we here? good heavens! see! What a display of finery! Here is a dress in which a queen Might on a gala-day be seen. I wonder how the necklace would suit me! Who may the lord of all this splendor be? [She puts on the necklace, and looks at herself in the glass.] Were but the ear-rings mine to wear! It gives one such a different air. What boots the beauty of the poor? ’Tis very beautiful to be sure, But without riches little weighs; They praise you, but half pity while they praise. Gold is the pole, To which all point: the whole Big world hangs on gold. Alas we poor!