Martha’s Garden.

Margaret and Faust.

Margaret. Promise me, Henry!

Faust. What I can.

Margaret. Of your religion I am fain to hear; I know thou art a most kind-hearted man, But as to thy belief I fear—

Faust. Fear not! thou know’st I love thee well: and know For whom I love my life’s last drop shall flow! For other men, I have nor wish nor need To rob them of their church, or of their creed.

Margaret. That’s not enough; you must believe it too!

Faust. Must I?

Margaret. Alas! that I might work some change on you! Not even the holy mass do you revere.

Faust. I do revere ’t.

Margaret. Yes, but without desire. At mass and at confession, too, I fear, Thou hast not shown thyself this many a year. Dost thou believe in God?

Faust. My love, who dares aspire To say he doth believe in God? May’st ask thy priests and sages all, Their answer seems like mockery to fall Upon the asker’s ear.

Margaret. Then thou dost not believe?

Faust. Misunderstand me not, thou sweet, angelic face! Who dares pronounce His name? And who proclaim— I do believe in Him? And who dares presume To utter—I believe Him not? The All-embracer, The All-upholder, Grasps and upholds He not Thee, me, Himself? Vaults not the Heaven his vasty dome above thee? Stand not the earth’s foundations firm beneath thee? And climb not, with benignant beaming, Up heaven’s slope the eternal stars? Looks not mine eye now into thine? And feel’st thou not an innate force propelling Thy tide of life to head and heart, A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling, Invisible visible moves beside thee? Go, fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness, And when thy heart brims with this feeling, Then call it what thou wilt, Heart! Happiness! Love! God! I have no name for that which passes all revealing! Feeling is all in all; Name is but smoke and sound, Enshrouding heaven’s pure glow.

Margaret. All that appears most pious and profound; Much of the same our parson says, Only he clothes it in a different phrase.

Faust. All places speak it forth; All hearts, from farthest South to farthest North, Proclaim the tale divine, Each in its proper speech; Wherefore not I in mine?

Margaret. When thus you speak it does not seem so bad, And yet is your condition still most sad: Unless you are a Christian, all is vain.

Faust. Sweet love!

Margaret. Henry, it gives me pain, More than my lips can speak, to see Thee joined to such strange company.

Faust. How so?

Margaret. The man whom thou hast made thy mate, Deep in my inmost soul I hate; Nothing in all my life hath made me smart So much as his disgusting leer. His face stabs like a dagger through my heart!

Faust. Sweet doll! thou hast no cause to fear.

Margaret. It makes my blood to freeze when he comes near. To other men I have no lack Of kindly thoughts; but as I long To see thy face, I shudder back From him. That he’s a knave I make no doubt; May God forgive me, if I do him wrong!

Faust. Such grim old owls must be; without Their help the world could not get on, I fear.

Margaret. With men like him I would have nought to do! As often as he shows him here, He looks in at the door with such a scornful leer, Half angry too; Whate’er is done, he takes no kindly part; And one can see it written on his face, He never loved a son of Adam’s race. Henry, within thy loving arm I feel so free, so trustful-warm; But when his foot comes near, I start, And feel a freezing grip tie up my heart.

Faust. O thou prophetic angel, thou!

Margaret. This overpowers me so That, when his icy foot may cross the door, I feel as if I could not love thee more. When he is here, too, I could never pray; This eats my very heart. Now say, Henry, is’t not the same with thee?

Faust. Nay now, this is mere blind antipathy!

Margaret. I must be gone.

Faust. Oh! may it never be That I shall spend one quiet hour with thee, One single little hour, and breast on breast, And soul on soul, with panting love, be pressed?

Margaret. Alas! did I but sleep alone, this night The door unbarred thy coming should invite; But my good mother has but broken sleep; And, if her ears an inkling got, Then were I dead upon the spot!

Faust. Sweet angel! that’s an easy fence to leap. Here is a juice, whose grateful power can steep Her senses in a slumber soft and deep; Three drops mixed with her evening draught will do.

Margaret. I would adventure this and more for you. Of course, there’s nothing hurtful in the phial?

Faust. If so, would I advise the trial?

Margaret. Thou best of men, if I but look on thee, All will deserts me to thy wish untrue; So much already have I done for thee That now scarce aught remains for me to do. [Exit.

Enter Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles. Well, is the monkey gone?

Faust. And you—must I Submit again to see you play the spy?

Mephistopheles. I have been duly advertised How Doctor Faust was catechised: I hope it will agree with you. The girls are wont—they have their reasons too— To see that one, in every point, believes The faith, that from his fathers he receives. They think, if little mettle here he shows, We too may lead him by the nose.

Faust. Thou monster! dost not know how this fond soul, Who yields her being’s whole To God, and feels and knows That from such faith alone her own salvation flows, With many an anxious holy fear is tossed, Lest he, whom best she loves, should be forever lost?

Mephistopheles. Thou super-sensual sensual fool, A silly girl takes thee to school!

Faust. Thou son of filth and fire, thou monster, thou!

Mephistopheles. And then her skill in reading faces Is not the least of all her graces! When I come near, she feels, she knows not how, And through my mask can read it on my brow That I must be, if not the very Devil, A genius far above the common level. And now to-night—

Faust. What’s that to thee?

Mephistopheles. What brings my master joy, brings joy to me.