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Faust Part 1 by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE, the greatest of German men of letters, was born at Frank fort-on-the-Main, August 28, 1749. His father was a man of means and position, and he personally supervised the early education of his son. The young Goethe studied at the universities of Leipsic and Strasburg, and in 1772 entered upon the practise of law at Wetzlar. At the invitation of Karl August, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, he went in 1775 to live in Weimar, where he held a succession of political offices, becoming the Duke's chief adviser. From 1786 to 1788 he traveled in Italy, and from 179' to 1817 directed the ducal theater at Weimar. He took part in the wars against France, 1792-3, and in the following year began his friendship with Schiller, which lasted till the latter's death in 1805. In 1806 he married Christiane Vulpius. From about 1794 he devoted himself chiefly to literature, and after a life of extraordinary productiveness died at Weimar, March 22, 1832. The most important of Goethe's works produced before he went to Weimar were his tragedy "Gotz von Berlichingen" (1773), which first brought him fame, and "The Sorrows of Young Werther," a novel which obtained enormous popularity during the so-called "Sturm und Drang" period. During the years at Weimar before he knew Schiller he began "Wilhelm Meister," wrote the dramas, "Iphigenie," "Egmont," and "Torquato Tasso," and his "Reinecke Fuchs." To the period of his friendship with Schiller belong the continuation of "Wilhelm Meister," the beautiful idyl of "Hermann and Dorothea," and the "Roman Elegies." In the last period, between Schiller's death in 1805 and his own, appeared "Faust," "Elective Affinities," his autobiographical "Dichtung und Wahrheit" ("Poetry and Truth"), his "Italian Journey," much scientific work, and a series of treatises on German Art.

JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE, the greatest German writer, was born in Frankfurt am Main on August 28, 1749. His father was well-off and well-respected, personally overseeing his son's early education. Young Goethe studied at the universities of Leipzig and Strasbourg, and in 1772 he started practicing law in Wetzlar. At the invitation of Karl August, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, he moved to Weimar in 1775, where he held various political positions and became the Duke's chief advisor. He traveled in Italy from 1786 to 1788, and from 1791 to 1817, he managed the ducal theater in Weimar. He participated in the wars against France in 1792-93, and the following year, he began his friendship with Schiller, which lasted until Schiller's death in 1805. In 1806, he married Christiane Vulpius. From around 1794, he focused mainly on literature and, after a highly productive life, died in Weimar on March 22, 1832. The most significant works Goethe produced before moving to Weimar include his tragedy "Götz von Berlichingen" (1773), which first brought him fame, and "The Sorrows of Young Werther," a novel that gained immense popularity during the so-called "Sturm und Drang" period. During his early years in Weimar, before meeting Schiller, he began "Wilhelm Meister," wrote the plays "Iphigenie," "Egmont," and "Torquato Tasso," and created "Reinecke Fuchs." His period of friendship with Schiller produced the continuation of "Wilhelm Meister," the beautiful idyll "Hermann and Dorothea," and the "Roman Elegies." In the later years, between Schiller's death in 1805 and his own, he published "Faust," "Elective Affinities," his autobiographical work "Dichtung und Wahrheit" ("Poetry and Truth"), "Italian Journey," a lot of scientific research, and a series of essays on German Art.

Though the foregoing enumeration contains but a selection front the titles of Goethe's best known writings, it suffices to show the extraordinary fertility and versatility of his genius. Rarely has a man of letters had so full and varied a life, or been capable of so many-sided a development. His political and scientific activities, though dwarfed in the eyes of our generation by his artistic production, yet showed the adaptability of his talent in the most diverse directions, and helped to give him that balance of temper and breadth of vision in which he has been surpassed by no genius of the ancient or modern world.

Though the list above includes just a selection of Goethe's most well-known writings, it demonstrates the incredible creativity and versatility of his genius. Few writers have led such a full and varied life or been capable of developing in so many different ways. His political and scientific endeavors, while overshadowed by his artistic achievements in the eyes of modern readers, still showcased his talent's adaptability in diverse fields and contributed to the balance of temperament and breadth of vision that no other genius, ancient or modern, has surpassed.

The greatest and most representative expression of Goethe's powers is without doubt to be found in his drama of "Faust"; but before dealing with Goethe's masterpiece, it is worth while to say something of the history of the story on which it is founded—the most famous instance of the old and widespread legend of the man who sold his soul to the devil. The historical Dr. Faust seems to have been a self-called philosopher who traveled about Germany in the first half of the sixteenth century, making money by the practise of magic, fortune-telling, and pretended cures. He died mysteriously about 1540, and a legend soon sprang up that the devil, by whose aid he wrought his wonders, had finally carried him off. In 1587 a life of him appeared, in which are attributed to him many marvelous exploits and in which he is held up as an awful warning against the excessive desire for secular learning and admiration for antique beauty which characterized the humanist movement of the time. In this aspect the Faust legend is an expression of early popular Protestantism, and of its antagonism to the scientific and classical tendencies of the Renaissance.

The greatest and most representative expression of Goethe's talents is undoubtedly found in his play "Faust." However, before discussing Goethe's masterpiece, it's worth mentioning the history behind the story it’s based on—the most famous example of the old and widespread legend about a man who sold his soul to the devil. The historical figure, Dr. Faust, seems to have been a self-proclaimed philosopher who traveled around Germany in the first half of the sixteenth century, making money through magic, fortune-telling, and fake cures. He died mysteriously around 1540, and soon a legend emerged that the devil, who aided him in his feats, had ultimately taken him away. In 1587, a biography was published that attributed many amazing exploits to him, portraying him as a dire warning against the excessive pursuit of worldly knowledge and admiration for ancient beauty, which were characteristics of the humanist movement at the time. In this way, the Faust legend reflects early popular Protestantism and its opposition to the scientific and classical trends of the Renaissance.

While a succession of Faust books were appearing in Germany, the original life was translated into English and dramatized by Marlowe. English players brought Marlowe's work back to Germany, where it was copied by German actors, degenerated into spectacular farce, and finally into a puppet show. Through this puppet show Goethe made acquaintance with the legend.

While a series of Faust books were being published in Germany, the original story was translated into English and turned into a play by Marlowe. English actors took Marlowe's work back to Germany, where it was adapted by German performers, worsened into a flashy farce, and eventually became a puppet show. Through this puppet show, Goethe became familiar with the legend.

By the time that Goethe was twenty, the Faust legend had fascinated his imagination; for three years before he went to Weimar he had been working on scattered scenes and bits of dialogue; and though he suspended actual composition on it during three distinct periods, it was always to resume, and he closed his labors upon it only with his life. Thus the period of time between his first experiments and the final touches is more than sixty years. During this period the plans for the structure and the signification of the work inevitably underwent profound modifications, and these have naturally affected the unity of the result; but, on the other hand, this long companionship and persistent recurrence to the task from youth to old age have made it in a unique way the record of Goethe's personality in all its richness and diversity.

By the time Goethe turned twenty, the Faust legend had captured his imagination. For three years before he moved to Weimar, he had been working on scattered scenes and bits of dialogue. Although he paused actual composition during three different periods, he always returned to it, and he only finished his work on it at the end of his life. So, the time between his first attempts and the final touches spanned over sixty years. During this time, the plans for the structure and meaning of the work inevitably changed a lot, which naturally impacted the overall unity of the result. However, this long journey and consistent return to the task from youth to old age have made it a unique reflection of Goethe's personality in all its richness and diversity.

The drama was given to the public first as a fragment in 1790; then the completed First Part appeared in 1808; and finally the Second Part was published in 1833, the year after the author's death. Writing in "Dichtung und Wahrheit" of the period about 1770, when he was in Strasburg with. Herder, Goethe says, "The significant puppet-play legend . . . echoed and buzzed in many tones within me. I too had drifted about in all knowledge, and early enough had been brought to feel the vanity of it. I too had made all sorts of experiments in life, and had always come back more unsatisfied and more tormented. I was now carrying these things, like many others, about with me and delighting myself with them in lonely hours, but without writing anything down." Without going into the details of the experience which underlies these words, we can see the be ginning of that sympathy with the hero of the old story that was the basis of its fascination and that accounted for Goethe's departure from the traditional catastrophe of Faust's damnation.

The drama was first presented to the public as a fragment in 1790; then the completed First Part was released in 1808; and finally the Second Part was published in 1833, the year after the author's death. Writing in "Dichtung und Wahrheit" about the period around 1770, when he was in Strasbourg with Herder, Goethe mentions, "The significant puppet-play legend… echoed and buzzed in many tones within me. I had also wandered through a sea of knowledge and had realized its futility early on. I had tried all sorts of life experiences and always returned feeling more unsatisfied and troubled. I carried these thoughts around with me like many others, enjoying them during quiet moments, but not writing anything down." Without going into the specifics of the experience that shaped these thoughts, we can see the beginnings of his connection with the hero of the old story, which was the source of its allure and influenced Goethe's departure from the traditional tragic ending of Faust's damnation.

Of the elements in the finished Faust that are derived from the legend a rough idea may be obtained from the "Doctor Faustus" of Marlowe, printed in the present volume. As early as 1674 a life of Faust had contained the incident of the philosopher's falling in love with a servant-girl; but the developed story of Gretchen is Goethe's own. The other elements added to the plot can be noted by a comparison with Marlowe.

Of the elements in the completed Faust that come from the legend, you can get a general idea from Marlowe's "Doctor Faustus," included in this volume. As early as 1674, a biography of Faust included the incident of the philosopher falling for a servant girl; however, the developed story of Gretchen is all Goethe's. You can see the other elements added to the plot by comparing it to Marlowe's work.

It need hardly be said that Goethe's "Faust" does not derive its greatness from its conformity to the traditional standards of what a tragedy should be. He himself was accustomed to refer to it cynically as a monstrosity, and yet he put himself into it as intensely as Dante put himself into "The Divine Comedy." A partial explanation of this apparent contradiction in the author's attitude is to be found in what has been said of its manner of composition. Goethe began it in his romantic youth, and availed himself recklessly of the supernatural elements in the legend, with the disregard of reason and plausibility characteristic of the romantic mood. When he returned to it in the beginning of the new century his artistic standards had changed, and the supernaturalism could now be tolerated only by being made symbolic. Thus he makes the career of Faust as a whole emblematic of the triumph of the persistent striving for the ideal over the temptation to find complete satisfaction in the sense, and prepares the reader for this interpretation by prefixing the "Prologue in Heaven." The elaboration of this symbolic element is responsible for such scenes as the Walpurgis Night and the Intermezzo, scenes full of power and infinitely suggestive, but destructive of the unity of the play as a tragedy of human life. Yet there remains in this First Part even in its final form much that is realistic in the best sense, the carousal in Auerbach's cellar, the portrait of Martha, the Easter-morning walk, the character and fate of Margaret. It is such elements as these that have appealed to the larger reading public and that have naturally been emphasized by performance on the stage, and by virtue of these alone "Faust" may rank as a great drama; but it is the result of Goethe's broodings on the mystery of human life, shadowed forth in the symbolic parts and elaborated with still greater complexity and still more far-reaching suggestiveness—and, it must be added, with deepening obscurity—in the Second Part, that have given the work its place with "Job," with the "Prometheus Bound," with "The Divine Comedy," and with "Hamlet."

It hardly needs saying that Goethe's "Faust" doesn't earn its greatness by meeting the traditional standards of what a tragedy should be. He often referred to it cynically as a monstrosity, yet he poured himself into it as deeply as Dante did with "The Divine Comedy." A part of this puzzling contradiction in his attitude can be found in the way he composed it. Goethe started it in his romantic youth and recklessly tapped into the supernatural elements of the legend, ignoring logic and believability, which is typical of the romantic spirit. When he returned to it at the beginning of the new century, his artistic standards had evolved, and the supernatural could only be accepted if it was made symbolic. So he shapes Faust’s journey as a whole to represent the triumph of the relentless pursuit of the ideal over the temptation to seek complete satisfaction in the material world, setting the stage for this interpretation with the "Prologue in Heaven." The development of this symbolic aspect leads to scenes like Walpurgis Night and the Intermezzo, which are powerful and full of meaning but disrupt the unity of the play as a tragedy about human life. Still, within this First Part, even in its final form, there are many realistic elements in the best sense, such as the revelry in Auerbach's cellar, Martha's portrait, the Easter morning walk, and the character and fate of Margaret. These aspects have resonated with a wider audience and have naturally been highlighted in stage performances. Because of these elements alone, "Faust" can be considered a great drama; however, it is the result of Goethe's contemplation on the mystery of human life, hinted at in the symbolic sections and further developed with even more complexity and deeper obscurity in the Second Part, that positions the work alongside "Job," "Prometheus Bound," "The Divine Comedy," and "Hamlet."

Dedication

Commitment

YE wavering shapes, again ye do enfold me,
As erst upon my troubled sight ye stole;
Shall I this time attempt to clasp, to hold ye?
Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul?
Ye press around! Come then, your captive hold me,
As upward from the vapoury mist ye roll;
Within my breast youth's throbbing pulse is bounding,
Fann'd by the magic breath your march surrounding.

You wavering shapes, here you are again,
As once before you crept into my troubled view;
Should I try this time to grab you, to keep you?
My soul still longs for that sweet illusion?
You surround me! So come, capture me,
As you rise from the misty haze;
Inside my chest, the pulse of youth is racing,
Fueled by the magical breath of your presence.

Shades fondly loved appear, your train attending,
And visions fair of many a blissful day;
First-love and friendship their fond accents blending,
Like to some ancient, half-expiring lay;
Sorrow revives, her wail of anguish sending
Back o'er life's devious labyrinthine way,
And names the dear ones, they whom Fate bereaving
Of life's fair hours, left me behind them grieving.

Beloved memories surface as you arrive,
And beautiful visions of many happy days;
First love and friendship mix their tender voices,
Like an old, fading song;
Sorrow returns, sending its cry of pain
Back through life's winding, complicated path;
And calls out the dear ones, those whom fate took away,
Leaving me to mourn their absence.

They hear me not my later cadence singing,
The souls to whom my earlier lays I sang;
Dispersed the throng, their severed flight now winging;
Mute are the voices that responsive rang.
For stranger crowds the Orphean lyre now stringing,
E'en their applause is to my heart a pang;
Of old who listened to my song, glad hearted,
If yet they live, now wander widely parted.

They don’t hear my later melodies singing,
The souls to whom I sang my earlier songs;
The crowd has scattered, their separate paths now flying;
The voices that used to respond are silent now.
For unfamiliar crowds, I’m now playing the Orphean lyre,
Even their applause feels like a pain in my heart;
Those who once listened to my song with joy,
If they’re still alive, now wander far apart.

A yearning long unfelt, each impulse swaying,
To yon calm spirit-realm uplifts my soul;
In faltering cadence, as when Zephyr playing,
Fans the Aeolian harp, my numbers roll;
Tear follows tear, my steadfast heart obeying
The tender impulse, loses its control;
What I possess as from afar I see;
Those I have lost become realities to me.

A longing I haven't felt in a long time, each urge moving me,
Lifts my soul to that peaceful spirit world;
In a shaky rhythm, like the gentle breeze playing,
Caressing the Aeolian harp, my words flow;
Tears fall one after another, my unwavering heart yielding
To the gentle urge, losing its grip;
What I have slips away as I see it from a distance;
Those I've lost become real to me.

PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE

MANAGER. DRAMATIC POET. MERRYMAN.

MANAGER

YE twain, in trouble and distress
True friends whom I so oft have found,
Say, for our scheme on German ground,
What prospect have we of success?
Fain would I please the public, win their thanks;
They live and let live, hence it is but meet.
The posts are now erected, and the planks,
And all look forward to a festal treat.
Their places taken, they, with eyebrows rais'd,
Sit patiently, and fain would be amaz'd.
I know the art to hit the public taste,
Yet ne'er of failure felt so keen a dread;
True, they are not accustomed to the best,
But then appalling the amount they've read..
How make our entertainment striking, new,
And yet significant and pleasing too?
For to be plain, I love to see the throng,
As to our booth the living tide progresses;
As wave on wave successive rolls along,
And through heaven's narrow portal forceful presses;
Still in broad daylight, ere the clock strikes four,
With blows their way towards the box they take;
And, as for bread in famine, at the baker's door,
For tickets are content their necks to break.
Such various minds the bard alone can sway,
My friend, oh work this miracle to-day!

You two, in trouble and distress
True friends whom I’ve often found,
Say, for our plan in Germany,
What are our chances of success?
I would love to please the public and earn their thanks;
They live and let live, so it’s only fair.
The posts are up, and the planks,
And everyone is looking forward to a festive treat.
They’ve taken their seats, raising their eyebrows,
Sitting patiently, eager to be amazed.
I know how to appeal to the public taste,
Yet I’ve never felt such a sharp fear of failure;
True, they’re not used to the best,
But they’ve read a shocking amount..
How can we make our show striking, new,
And still meaningful and enjoyable too?
Honestly, I love to see the crowd,
As the living tide flows to our booth;
Like wave after wave rolling in,
Pushing through heaven's narrow gate;
Still in broad daylight, before the clock strikes four,
They fight their way to the ticket booth;
And as if desperate for food in a famine,
They’re willing to risk it all for tickets.
Such diverse minds only the poet can sway,
My friend, oh work this miracle today!

POET

Oh of the motley throng speak not before me,
At whose aspect the Spirit wings its flight!

Oh, don’t speak in front of me about the mixed crowd,
At whose sight the Spirit takes off!

Conceal the surging concourse, I implore thee,
Whose vortex draws us with resistless might.
No, to some peaceful heavenly nook restore me,
Where only for the bard blooms pure delight,
Where love and friendship yield their choicest blessing,
Our heart's true bliss, with god-like hand caressing.

Hide the bustling crowd, I beg you,
Whose pull draws us in with unstoppable force.
No, take me back to a peaceful, heavenly place,
Where only for the poet does pure joy blossom,
Where love and friendship bring their greatest gifts,
Our true happiness, lovingly embraced.

What in the spirit's depths was there created,
What shyly there the lip shaped forth in sound;
A failure now, with words now fitly mated,
In the wild tumult of the hour is drown'd;
Full oft the poet's thought for years bath waited
Until at length with perfect form 'tis crowned;
What dazzles, for the moment born, must perish;
What genuine is posterity will cherish.

What in the depths of the spirit was created,
What shyly the lips formed into sound;
A failure now, with words finally matched,
In the wild chaos of the moment is drowned;
Often the poet’s thought has waited for years
Until at last it’s crowned with perfect form;
What dazzles, born for a moment, must perish;
What is genuine, posterity will cherish.

MERRYMAN

This cant about posterity I hate;
About posterity were I to prate,
Who then the living would amuse? For they
Will have diversion, ay, and 'tis their due.
A sprightly fellow's presence at your play,
Methinks should also count for something too;
Whose genial wit the audience still inspires,
Knows from their changeful mood no angry feeling;
A wider circle he desires,
To their heart's depths more surely thus appealing.
To work, then! Give a master-piece, my friend;
Bring Fancy with her choral trains before us,
Sense, reason, feeling, passion, but attend!
Let folly also swell the tragic chorus.

I really dislike this talk about future generations;
If I talked about them, who would entertain the living? They
Deserve their enjoyment, that's for sure.
A lively person's presence at your show,
I think should count for something too;
Their charming humor still inspires the audience,
And they know no anger despite the crowd's changing mood;
They want to reach a wider audience,
Connecting more deeply with people's hearts.
So let’s get to work! Create a masterpiece, my friend;
Bring imagination and its vibrant energy to us,
Let sense, reason, emotion, and passion be present!
And let a bit of silliness add to the serious tone.

MANAGER

Time three Archangels come forward

Time for three Archangels to step up

RAPHAEL

THE Sun, in ancient guise, competing
With brother spheres in rival song,
With thunder-march, his orb completing,
Moves his predestin'd course along;
His aspect to the powers supernal
Gives strength, though fathom him none may;
Transcending thought, the works eternal
Are fair as on the primal day.

The Sun, in its ancient form, competing
With brother spheres in a rival tune,
With a thunderous march, his circle finishing,
Follows his destined path along;
His appearance to the higher powers
Brings strength, though no one can understand him;
Surpassing thought, the eternal works
Are as beautiful as on the first day.

GABRIEL

With speed, thought baffling, unabating,
Earth's splendour whirls in circling flight;
Its Eden-brightness alternating
With solemn, awe-inspiring night;
Ocean's broad waves in wild commotion,
Against the rocks' deep base are hurled;
And with the spheres, both rock and ocean
Eternally are swiftly whirled.

With incredible speed, beyond understanding,
Earth's beauty spins in a continuous dance;
Its paradise-like brightness shifting
With the profound, awe-inspiring night;
The ocean's vast waves in wild turmoil,
Crashing against the rocks below;
And with the planets, both rock and ocean
Are endlessly and swiftly swept along.

MICHAEL

It's done! Soon you'll see my excitement;
As for my bet, I have no worries.
And if I finally achieve my goal,
Please forgive me for celebrating so wholeheartedly.
He'll eat dust, yes, and enjoy it,
Just like my cousin, the famous snake.

THE LORD

Here too thou'rt free to act without control;
I ne'er have cherished hate for such as thee.
Of all the spirits who deny,
The scoffer is least wearisome to me.
Ever too prone is man activity to shirk,
In unconditioned rest he fain would live;
Hence this companion purposely I give,
Who stirs, excites, and must, as devil, work.
But ye, the genuine sons of heaven, rejoice!
In the full living beauty still rejoice!
May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,
In bonds of love enfold you, mercy-fraught,
And Seeming's changeful forms, around you flowing,
Do ye arrest, in ever-during thought!
(Heaven closes, the Archangels disperse.)

Here too you're free to act without restraint;
I never hated those like you.
Of all the spirits who deny,
The skeptic is the least annoying to me.
Humans are always too ready to avoid action,
In a state of complete rest they wish to live;
So this companion I give on purpose,
Who stirs, excites, and must, like a devil, work.
But you, the true children of heaven, celebrate!
In the vibrant beauty, still celebrate!
May that which works and lives, the ever-growing,
Embrace you in bonds of love, full of mercy,
And the changing forms of appearances, flowing around you,
Capture them in lasting thought!
(Heaven closes, the Archangels disperse.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (alone)

MEPHISTOPHELES (by himself)

The ancient one I like sometimes to see,
And not to break with him am always civil;
'Tis courteous in so great a lord as he,
To speak so kindly even to the devil.

The old one I sometimes enjoy seeing,
And to keep things smooth, I'm always polite;
It's respectful for someone as powerful as he,
To talk so nicely even to the devil.

THE TRAGEDY OF FAUST

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Characters in the Prologue for the Theatre

Characters in the Prologue for the Theater

THE MANAGER. THE DRAMATIC POET. MERRYMAN.

Characters in the Prologue in Heaven

THE LORD.
RAPHAEL, GABRIEL, MICHAEL, (The Heavenly Host).
MEPHISTOPHELES.

Characters in the Tragedy
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. WAGNER, a Student.
MARGARET. MARTHA, Margaret's Neighbour.
VALENTINE, Margaret's Brother. OLD PEASANT. A
STUDENT. ELIZABETH, an Acquaintance of Margaret's.
Faoscn, BRANDER, SIEBEL, ALTMAYER,
(Guests in Auerbach's Wine Cellar).
Witches; old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-Wisp, Witch Pedlar,
Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen,
Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune-teller, Shepherd,
Soldier, Students, &c.

Characters in the Tragedy
FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES. WAGNER, a Student.
MARGARET. MARTHA, Margaret's Neighbor.
VALENTINE, Margaret's Brother. OLD PEASANT. A
STUDENT. ELIZABETH, an Acquaintance of Margaret's.
Faoscn, BRANDER, SIEBEL, ALTMAYER,
(Guests in Auerbach's Wine Cellar).
Witches; old and young; Wizards, Will-o'-the-Wisp, Witch Peddler,
Protophantasmist, Servibilis, Monkeys, Spirits, Journeymen,
Country-folk, Citizens, Beggar, Old Fortune-teller, Shepherd,
Soldier, Students, etc.

In the Intermezzo

In the Intermission

OBERON. TITANIA. ARIEL. PUCK, &C, &C.

PART I

NIGHT

A high vaulted narrow Gothic chamber.
FAUST, restless, seated at his desk.

A tall, narrow Gothic room with a high ceiling.
FAUST, restless, sitting at his desk.

FAUST

I HAVE, alas! Philosophy,
Medicine, Jurisprudence too,
And to my cost Theology,
With ardent labour, studied through.
And here I stand, with all my lore,
Poor fool, no wiser than before.
Magister, doctor styled, indeed,
Already these ten years I lead,
Up, down, across, and to and fro,
My pupils by the nose,—and learn,
That we in truth can nothing know!
That in my heart like fire doth burn.
'Tis true I've more cunning than all your dull tribe,
Magister and doctor, priest, parson, and scribe;
Scruple or doubt comes not to enthrall me,
Neither can devil nor hell now appal me—
Hence also my heart must all pleasure forego!
I may not pretend, aught rightly to know,
I may not pretend, through teaching, to find
A means to improve or convert mankind.
Then I have neither goods nor treasure,
No worldly honour, rank, or pleasure;
No dog in such fashion would longer live!
Therefore myself to magic I give,
In hope, through spirit-voice and might,
Secrets now veiled to bring to light,
That I no more, with aching brow,
Need speak of what I nothing know;
That I the force may recognise
That binds creation's inmost energies;
Her vital powers, her embryo seeds survey,
And fling the trade in empty words away.
O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays
Their last upon mine anguish gaze!
Beside this desk, at dead of night,
Oft have I watched to hail thy light:
Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,
With soothing power, thy radiance stole!
In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,
Freely, some mountain height sublime,
Round mountain caves with spirits ride,
In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,
And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew
My spirit, in thy healing dew!
Woe's me! still prison'd in the gloom
Of this abhorr'd and musty room!
Where heaven's dear light itself doth pass,
But dimly through the painted glass!
Hemmed in by book-heaps, piled around,
Worm-eaten, hid 'neath dust and mould,
Which to the high vault's topmost bound,
A smoke-stained paper doth enfold;
With boxes round thee piled, and glass,
And many a useless instrument,
With old ancestral lumber blent—
This is thy world! a world! alas!
And dost thou ask why heaves thy heart,
With tighten'd pressure in thy breast?
Why the dull ache will not depart,
By which thy life-pulse is oppress'd?
Instead of nature's living sphere,
Created for mankind of old,
Brute skeletons surround thee here,
And dead men's bones in smoke and mould.

I have, unfortunately, studied Philosophy,
Medicine, and Law too,
And at my own expense, Theology,
With intense effort, come to understand.
And here I stand, with all my knowledge,
Poor fool, no wiser than before.
Magister, doctor, I’m called, indeed,
For the last ten years I’ve led,
Up, down, across, and to and fro,
Leading my students by the nose,—and learn,
That in truth we can know nothing!
That in my heart like fire does burn.
It’s true I have more cleverness than all your dull crowd,
Magister and doctor, priest, pastor, and scribe;
Scruples or doubts don’t ensnare me,
Neither can devil nor hell now scare me—
Hence, my heart must give up all pleasure!
I cannot pretend to know anything correctly,
I cannot pretend to teach and find
A way to improve or change humankind.
So I have neither goods nor wealth,
No worldly honor, rank, or pleasure;
No dog would live this way for long!
Therefore, I devote myself to magic,
Hoping, through spirit voice and power,
To bring to light secrets now hidden,
So I no longer, with a furrowed brow,
Need to speak of what I do not know;
That I may recognize the force
That binds creation’s innermost energies;
Her vital powers, her embryonic seeds survey,
And throw away the trade of empty words.
O full-orbed moon, if only your rays
Would glance upon my anguish at last!
Beside this desk, at dead of night,
Often have I waited to greet your light:
Then, thoughtful friend! over book and scroll,
With soothing power, your radiance stole!
In your dear light, ah, might I climb,
Freely, some sublime mountain height,
Ride with spirits around mountain caves,
Glide through meadows in your gentle haze,
And, cleansed from the fumes of knowledge, renew
My spirit in your healing dew!
Woe is me! still trapped in the gloom
Of this loathsome and musty room!
Where heaven’s dear light itself passes,
But dimly through the stained glass!
Surrounded by piles of books,
Worm-eaten, hidden beneath dust and mold,
Which reach up to the highest vault,
A smoke-stained paper enfolds;
With boxes piled around and glass,
And many a useless tool,
With old ancestral junk mixed in—
This is your world! a world! alas!
And do you ask why your heart heaves,
With tightened pressure in your chest?
Why the dull ache won’t go away,
By which your life pulse is oppressed?
Instead of nature’s living sphere,
Created for humankind of old,
Brute skeletons surround you here,
And dead men’s bones in smoke and mold.

Up! Forth into the distant land!
Is not this book of mystery
By Nostradamus' proper hand,
An all-sufficient guide? Thou'lt see
The courses of the stars unroll'd;
When nature doth her thoughts unfold
To thee, thy soul shall rise, and seek
Communion high with her to hold,
As spirit doth with spirit speak!
Vain by dull poring to divine
The meaning of each hallow'd sign.
Spirits! I feel you hov'ring near;
Make answer, if my voice ye hear!

Up! Let's head into the distant land!
Isn't this mysterious book
Written by Nostradamus himself,
An all-sufficient guide? You’ll see
The paths of the stars revealed;
When nature shares her thoughts with you,
Your soul will rise and seek
A deep connection to hold,
As spirit speaks to spirit!
It's pointless to try and figure out
The meaning of each sacred sign through dull study.
Spirits! I sense you hovering near;
Please respond if you can hear my voice!

(He opens the book and perceives the sign of the Macrocosmos.)

(He opens the book and sees the sign of the Macrocosmos.)

Ah! at this spectacle through every sense,
What sudden ecstasy of joy is flowing!
I feel new rapture, hallow'd and intense,
Through every nerve and vein with ardour glowing.
Was it a god who character'd this scroll,
The tumult in my spirit healing,
O'er my sad heart with rapture stealing,
And by a mystic impulse, to my soul,
The powers of nature all around revealing.
Am I a God? What light intense!
In these pure symbols do I see,
Nature exert her vital energy.
Now of the wise man's words I learn the sense;

Ah! At this sight, through every sense,
What sudden joy is flowing!
I feel a new excitement, sacred and intense,
Filling every nerve and vein with passion.
Was it a god who wrote this scroll?
The chaos in my spirit healing,
Over my sad heart joy is stealing,
And through a mysterious impulse, to my soul,
The powers of nature all around are revealing.
Am I a God? What bright light!
In these pure symbols, do I see,
Nature showing her vital energy.
Now I understand the wise man's words;

"Unlock'd the spirit-world is lying,
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead!
Up scholar, lave, with zeal undying,
Thine earthly breast in the morning-red!"
(He contemplates the sign.)

"Unlock’d, the spirit world is waiting,
Your senses are closed, your heart is numb!
Get up, scholar, wash with endless passion,
Your earthly soul in the morning light!"
(He contemplates the sign.)

How all things live and work, and ever blending,
Weave one vast whole from Being's ample range!
How powers celestial, rising and descending,
Their golden buckets ceaseless interchange!
Their flight on rapture-breathing pinions winging,
From heaven to earth their genial influence bringing,
Through the wild sphere their chimes melodious ringing!

How everything lives and functions, constantly mixing,
Creating a single vast whole from the wide range of existence!
How celestial forces, rising and falling,
Constantly exchanging their golden buckets!
Their flight on wings that breathe joy,
Bringing their warm influence from heaven to earth,
Through the wild sphere their harmonious chimes ringing!

A wondrous show! but ah! a show alone!
Where shall I grasp thee, infinite nature, where?
Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon
Hang heaven and earth, from which the withered heart
For solace yearns, ye still impart
Your sweet and fostering tides—where are ye—where?
Ye gush, and must I languish in despair?
(He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and perceives
the sign of the Earth-spirit.)

A spectacular show! But oh! Just a show!
Where can I hold you, endless nature, where?
You sources, you fountains of all life, on which
Heaven and earth depend, from which the weary heart
Longs for comfort, you still give
Your sweet and nurturing waves—where are you—where?
You flow, and must I suffer in despair?
(He flips through the pages of the book impatiently and notices
the sign of the Earth-spirit.)

How all unlike the influence of this sign!
Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher,
E'en now my strength is rising higher,
E'en now I glow as with new wine;
Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare,

How different the impact of this sign!
Earth-spirit, you are so close to me,
Even now my strength is growing stronger,
Even now I feel invigorated;
I feel the courage to take on the world,

The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare,
And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair.

The sorrow of the world, the joy of the world to endure,
With storms to fight, face the lightning’s strike,
And in the midst of a wrecked ship, not lose hope.

Thou'rt like the spirit, thou dost comprehend,
Not me! (Vanishes.)

You're like the spirit, you understand,
Not me! (Vanishes.)

FAUST (deeply moved)

FAUST (emotionally affected)

FAUST
Oh, absolutely! Even to the highest star!
For us, my friend, the ages that have passed
Are like a book with seven seals, tightly shut;
And what people call the spirit of the times
Is really just their own spirit after all,
In which, often twisted, the times are reflected.
It's truly a sight that can grieve the soul!
At first glance, we flee from it in fear;
It’s nothing but a storage room, a junkyard;
At best, a kind of mock-heroic play,
Full of practical sayings and wise maxims,
To fit the puppets and their pretend stage.

WAGNER

But then the world and man, his heart and brain!
Touching these things all men would something know.

But then the world and humanity, their hearts and minds!
When it comes to these things, everyone wants to understand something.

FAUST

Ay! what 'mong men as knowledge doth obtain!
Who on the child its true name dares bestow?
The few who somewhat of these things have known,
Who their full hearts unguardedly reveal'd,
Nor thoughts, nor feelings, from the mob conceal'd,
Have died on crosses, or in flames been thrown.—
Excuse me, friend, far now the night is spent,
For this time we must say adieu.

Ah! What about men who gain knowledge!
Who dares to name the child?
The few who know a bit about these things,
Who openly share their full hearts,
Who hide neither thoughts nor feelings from the crowd,
Have died on crosses or been thrown into flames.—
Forgive me, friend, the night is far gone,
So for now, we must say goodbye.

WAGNER

Still to watch on I had been well content,
Thus to converse so learnedly with you.
But as to-morrow will be Easter-day,
Some further questions grant, I pray;
With diligence to study still I fondly cling;
Already I know much, but would know everything.
(Exit.)

Still to watch on, I had been quite happy,
To be able to talk so thoughtfully with you.
But since tomorrow is Easter,
Please allow me to ask a few more questions;
I’m eager to keep studying diligently;
I know a lot already, but I want to know everything.
(Exit.)

FAUST (alone)

FAUST (Solo)

How him alone all hope abandons never,
To empty trash who clings, with zeal untired,
With greed for treasure gropes, and, joy-inspir'd,
Exults if earth-worms second his endeavour.

How he alone never abandons all hope,
To empty trash, who clings with untired zeal,
With greed for treasure, he gropes, and, inspired by joy,
He exults if earthworms support his effort.

And dare a voice of merely human birth,
E'en here, where shapes immortal throng'd, intrude?
Yet ah! thou poorest of the sons of earth,
For once, I e'en to thee feel gratitude.
Despair the power of sense did well-nigh blast,
And thou didst save me ere I sank dismay'd,
So giant-like the vision seem'd, so vast,
I felt myself shrink dwarf'd as I survey'd!

And how could a voice from an ordinary human,
Even here, where immortal figures gathered, intrude?
Yet, oh! you weakest of the children of the earth,
For once, I actually feel gratitude towards you.
Despair almost obliterated my sense,
And you saved me before I was overwhelmed,
The vision seemed so giant-like, so immense,
I felt myself shrink, dwarfed as I looked around!

I, God's own image, from this toil of clay
Already freed, with eager joy who hail'd
The mirror of eternal truth unveil'd,
Mid light effulgent and celestial day:—
I, more than cherub, whose unfetter'd soul
With penetrative glance aspir'd to flow
Through nature's veins, and, still creating, know
The life of gods,—how am I punish'd now!
One thunder-word hath hurl'd me from the goal!

I, made in God's image, from this labor of clay
Already freed, with eager joy who welcomed
The reflection of eternal truth revealed,
Amid radiant light and heavenly day:—
I, more than an angel, whose unbound soul
With insightful gaze sought to flow
Through nature's veins, and, still creating, understand
The life of gods—how am I punished now!
One thunderous word has cast me from my goal!

Spirit! I dare not lift me to thy sphere.
What though my power compell'd thee to appear,
My art was powerless to detain thee here.
In that great moment, rapture-fraught,
I felt myself so small, so great;
Fiercely didst thrust me from the realm of thought
Back on humanity's uncertain fate!
Who'll teach me now? What ought Ito forego?
Ought I that impulse to obey?
Alas! our every deed, as well as every woe,
Impedes the tenor of life's onward way!

Spirit! I can’t even lift myself to your level.
Even if my power made you show up,
My skills couldn’t keep you here.
In that incredible moment, filled with joy,
I felt both so small and so powerful;
You forcefully pushed me away from deep thought
Back to the uncertain fate of humanity!
Who can teach me now? What should I let go of?
Should I obey that urge?
Sadly, every action we take, along with every sorrow,
Hinders the progress of life’s journey!

E'en to the noblest by the soul conceiv'd,
Some feelings cling of baser quality;
And when the goods of this world are achiev'd,
Each nobler aim is termed a cheat, a lie.
Our aspirations, our soul's genuine life,
Grow torpid in the din of earthly strife.

Even for the noblest thoughts in our souls,
Some lesser feelings still hold on;
And when we gain the treasures of this world,
Each higher goal is called a fraud, a con.
Our dreams, the true essence of our being,
Become dull in the noise of life’s hard fighting.

Though youthful phantasy, while hope inspires,
Stretch o'er the infinite her wing sublime,
A narrow compass limits her desires,
When wreck'd our fortunes in the gulf of time.
In the deep heart of man care builds her nest,
O'er secret woes she broodeth there,
Sleepless she rocks herself and scareth joy and rest;
Still is she wont some new disguise to wear,
She may as house and court, as wife and child appear,
As dagger, poison, fire and flood;
Imagined evils chill thy blood,
And what thou ne'er shall lose, o'er that dost shed the tear.
I am not like the gods! Feel it I must;
I'm like the earth-worm, writhing in the dust,
Which, as on dust it feeds, its native fare,
Crushed 'neath the passer's tread, lies buried there.

Though youthful imagination, inspired by hope,
Spreads her wings wide over the infinite,
A narrow scope limits her desires,
When our fortunes are wrecked in the passage of time.
In the deep heart of man, worry makes its home,
Brooding over hidden sorrows there,
Sleepless, it rocks itself and frightens joy and peace;
Still, it often chooses to wear a new disguise,
It can appear as a house, a court, a wife, or a child,
As a dagger, poison, fire, and flood;
Imagined troubles chill your blood,
And for what you may never lose, you shed tears.
I am not like the gods! I feel it deeply;
I'm like the earthworm, writhing in the dirt,
Which, as it feeds on dust, its native meal,
Is crushed underfoot and lies buried there.

Is it not dust, wherewith this lofty wall,
With hundred shelves, confines me round;
Rubbish, in thousand shapes, may I not call
What in this moth-world doth my being bound?
Here, what doth fail me, shall I find?
Read in a thousand tomes that, everywhere,
Self-torture is the lot of human-kind,
With but one mortal happy, here and there?
Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say,
But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed,
Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day.
And in the twilight wandered, sorely vexed?
Ye instruments, forsooth, ye mock at me,—
With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;
To nature's portals ye should be the key;
Cunning your wards, and yet the bolts ye fail to stir.
Inscrutable in broadest light,
To be unveil'd by force she doth refuse,
What she reveals not to thy mental sight,
Thou wilt not wrest me from her with levers and with screws.
Old useless furnitures, yet stand ye here,
Because my sire ye served, now dead and gone.
Old scroll, the smoke of years dost wear,
So long as o'er this desk the sorry lamp hath shone.
Better my little means hath squandered quite away,
Than burden'd by that little here to sweat and groan!
Wouldst thou possess thy heritage, essay,
By use to render it thine own!
What we employ not, but impedes our way,
That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!

Isn’t it dust that this tall wall,
With a hundred shelves, surrounds me?
Can’t I call this junk,
What binds my existence in this world of moths?
Here, what I can’t find will I discover?
Read in a thousand books that, everywhere,
Self-torture is the fate of humanity,
With only one person truly happy, here and there?
Oh, hollow skull, that grin—what does it say,
Except that your brain, like mine, has been troubled forever,
Still longing for the truth, has searched for the light of day.
And in the twilight wandered, deeply troubled?
You tools, truly, you mock me,—
With wheel, and cog, and ring, and cylinder;
To nature's doors you should be the key;
Clever in your mechanisms, yet you fail to unlock.
Mysterious even in broad daylight,
To be revealed by force she refuses,
What she won’t show to your mind,
You cannot wrest from her with levers and screws.
Old useless furniture, yet you remain here,
Because you served my father, now dead and gone.
Old scroll, you wear the smoke of years,
As long as this sorry lamp has shone over this desk.
Better that I squander my little means completely,
Than to be burdened by that little here to toil and groan!
If you want to claim your legacy, try,
By using it to make it truly yours!
What we don’t use just gets in our way,
That which the hour creates, that can it use alone!

But wherefore to yon Spot is riveted my gaze?
Is yonder flasket there a magnet to my sight?
Whence this mild radiance that around me plays,
As when, 'mid forest gloom, reigneth the moon's soft light?

But why am I staring at that spot over there?
Is that flask a magnet pulling my gaze?
Where does this gentle glow that dances around me come from,
Like the soft light of the moon reigning during the forest's dark?

Hail precious phial! Thee, with reverent awe,
Down from thine old receptacle I draw!
Science in thee I hail and human art.
Essence of deadliest powers, refin'd and sure,
Of soothing anodynes abstraction pure,
Now in thy master's need thy grace impart!
I gaze on thee, my pain is lull'd to rest;
I grasp thee, calm'd the tumult in my breast;
The flood-tide of my spirit ebbs away;
Onward I'm summon'd o'er a boundless main,
Calm at my feet expands the glassy plain,
To shores unknown allures a brighter day.

Hail, precious vial! With deep respect,
I take you from your old container!
I celebrate the science and human art within you.
Essence of the deadliest powers, refined and reliable,
Of pure tranquilizers and pain relief,
Now in your master’s time of need, share your grace!
I look at you, and my pain is eased;
I hold you, and the chaos inside me quiets;
The flood of my emotions recedes;
I’m called to sail across a vast ocean,
Calm at my feet stretches the smooth surface,
To unknown shores, a brighter day beckons.

Lo, where a car of fire, on airy pinion,
Comes floating towards me I I'm prepar'd to fly
By a new track through ether's wide dominion,
To distant spheres of pure activity.
This life intense, this godlike ecstasy—
Worm that thou art such rapture canst thou earn?
Only resolve with courage stern and high,
Thy visage from the radiant sun to turn!
Dare with determin'd will to burst the portals
Past which in terror others fain would steal
Now is the time, through deeds, to show that mortals
The calm sublimity of gods can feel;
To shudder not at yonder dark abyss,
Where phantasy creates her own self-torturing brood,
Right onward to the yawning gulf to press,
Around whose narrow jaws rolleth hell's fiery flood;
With glad resolve to take the fatal leap,
Though danger threaten thee, to sink in endless sleep!

Look, a chariot of fire, on light wings,
Comes floating towards me; I’m ready to fly
By a new path through the vastness of the sky,
To distant realms of pure action.
This intense life, this godlike joy—
Worm that you are, can you really earn such bliss?
Only resolve with strong and lofty courage,
To turn your face away from the radiant sun!
Dare with determined will to break through the gates
Past which in fear others would gladly escape.
Now is the time, through actions, to show that humans
Can feel the calm greatness of the gods;
To not shudder at that dark abyss,
Where imagination breeds its own self-torturing nightmares,
Press forward to the gaping void,
Around whose narrow jaws rolls hell’s fiery flood;
With joyful resolve to take the fateful leap,
Though danger threatens you, to sink into endless sleep!

Pure crystal goblet! forth I draw thee now,
From out thine antiquated case, where thou
Forgotten hast reposed for many a year!
Oft at my father's revels thou didst shine,
To glad the earnest guests was thine,
As each to other passed the generous cheer.
The gorgeous brede of figures, quaintly wrought,
Which he who quaff'd must first in rhyme expound,
Then drain the goblet at one draught profound,
Hath nights of boyhood to fond memory brought.
I to my neighbour shall not reach thee now,
Nor on thy rich device shall I my cunning show.
Here is a juice, makes drunk without delay;
Its dark brown flood thy crystal round doth fill;
Let this last draught, the product of my skill,
My own free choice, be quaff'd with resolute will,
A solemn festive greeting, to the coming day!
(He places the goblet to his mouth.)
(Tue ringing of bells, and choral voices.)

Pure crystal goblet! I take you out now,
From your old case, where you
Have rested forgotten for many years!
You often shone at my father's parties,
Bringing joy to the earnest guests,
As each passed along the generous cheer.
The ornate design of figures, cleverly crafted,
Which whoever drinks must first explain in rhyme,
Then finish the goblet in one deep gulp,
Brings back fond memories of my childhood nights.
I can't reach you now to share with my neighbor,
Nor will I show off my skill on your rich design.
Here is a drink that gets you tipsy right away;
Its dark brown liquid fills your crystal shape;
Let this final sip, the result of my craft,
Be enjoyed with strong determination,
A solemn festive toast to the coming day!
(He lifts the goblet to his lips.)
(The ringing of bells and choral voices.)

Chorus of ANGELS

ANGELS Chorus

Christ is arisen!
Mortal, all hail to thee,
Thou whom mortality,
Earth's sad reality,
Held as in prison.

Christ has risen!
Human, all praise to you,
You whom mortality,
Earth's sad truth,
Held captive like in prison.

FAUST

What hum melodious, what clear silvery chime
Thus draws the goblet from my lips away?
Ye deep-ton'd bells, do ye with voice sublime,
Announce the solemn dawn of Easter-day?
Sweet choir! are ye the hymn of comfort singing,
Which once around the darkness of the grave,
From seraph-voices, in glad triumph ringing,
Of a new covenant assurance gave?

What a beautiful sound, what a clear silvery chime
Pulls the goblet from my lips away?
O deep-toned bells, do you with your sublime voice,
Announce the solemn dawn of Easter day?
Sweet choir! Are you singing the hymn of comfort,
Which once surrounded the darkness of the grave,
From angelic voices, joyfully ringing,
Offering a new covenant assurance?

CHORUS OF WOMEN

We, his true-hearted,
With spices and myrrh,
Embalmed the departed,
And swathed him with care;
Here we conveyed Him,
Our Master, so dear;
Alas! Where we laid Him,
The Christ is not here.

We, his loyal friends,
With spices and myrrh,
Prepared the body,
And wrapped him with care;
Here we laid Him,
Our beloved Master;
Sadly! Where we placed Him,
The Christ is not here.

CHORUS OF ANGELS

Christ is arisen!
Blessed the loving one,
Who from earth's trial throes,
Healing and strengthening woes,
Soars as from prison.

Christ is risen!
Blessed is the one who loves,
Who frees us from life's struggles,
Healing our pain and lifting our spirits,
Soaring like someone released from prison.

FAUST

Wherefore, ye tones celestial, sweet and strong,
Come ye a dweller in the dust to seek?
Ring out your chimes believing crowds among,
The message well I hear, my faith alone is weak;
From faith her darling, miracle, hath sprung.
Aloft to yonder spheres I dare not soar,
Whence sound the tidings of great joy;
And yet, with this sweet strain familiar when a boy,
Back it recalleth me to life once more.
Then would celestial love, with holy kiss,
Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour,
While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious
Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss;
A yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear,
Drove me to wander on through wood and field;
With heaving breast and many a burning tear,
I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd.
Gay sports and festive hours proclaim'd with joyous pealing,
This Easter hymn in days of old;
And fond remembrance now doth me, with childlike feeling,
Back from the last, the solemn step, withhold.
O still sound on, thou sweet celestial strain!
The tear-drop flows,—Earth, I am thine again!

So, you heavenly tones, sweet and strong,
Do you come to a dweller in the dust to seek?
Ring out your chimes among the believing crowds,
I hear the message well, but my faith alone is weak;
From faith, her beloved miracle has sprung.
I dare not soar up to those distant spheres,
Where the tidings of great joy ring out;
And yet, with this sweet melody I remember from childhood,
It brings me back to life once more.
Then celestial love, with a holy kiss,
Would come over me in the quiet hour of the Sabbath,
While, filled with solemn meaning and mystery,
The deep-sounding bell chimed, and prayer was bliss;
A yearning impulse, undefined yet dear,
Drove me to wander through woods and fields;
With a heaving chest and many burning tears,
I felt a holy joy revealing a world.
Joyful celebrations and festive hours proclaimed with ringing peals,
This Easter hymn from days of old;
And fond memories now hold me back, with a childlike feeling,
From the last solemn step, keeping me here.
O continue to sound, you sweet heavenly tune!
The tear rolls down,—Earth, I belong to you again!

CHORUS OF DISCIPLES

He whom we mourned as dead,
Living and glorious,
From the dark grave bath fled,
O'er death victorious;
Almost creative bliss
Waits on his growing powers;
Ah! Him on earth we miss;
Sorrow and grief are ours.
Yearning he left his own,
Mid sore annoy;
Ah! we must needs bemoan.
Master, thy joy!

He whom we mourned as dead,
Living and glorious,
From the dark grave has fled,
Overcoming death;
Almost a joyful bliss
Awaits his growing strength;
Oh! We miss him here on earth;
Sorrow and grief are ours.
Yearning, he left his own,
Amidst great pain;
Oh! We must truly mourn.
Master, your joy!

CHORUS OF ANGELS

Christ is arisen,
Redeem'd from decay.
The bonds which imprison
Your souls, rend away!
Praising the Lord with zeal,
By deeds that love reveal,
Like brethren true and leal
Sharing the daily meal,
To all that sorrow feel
Whisp'ring of heaven's weal,
Still is the master near,
Still is he here!

Christ has risen,
Redeemed from decay.
The chains that hold
Your souls, break away!
Praising the Lord with passion,
By acts that love show,
Like true and loyal brothers
Sharing the daily meal,
To all who feel sorrow
Whispering of heaven's joy,
The master is still near,
He is still here!

BEFORE THE GATE
Promenaders of all sorts pass out.

BEFORE THE GATE
People of all kinds walk out.

ARTISANS

Why choose ye that direction, pray?

Why do you choose that direction, if I may ask?

OTHERS

To the hunting-lodge we're on our way.

To the hunting lodge, we're on our way.

THE FIRST

We towards the mill are strolling on.

We are walking toward the mill.

A MECHANIC

A walk to Wasserhof were best.

A walk to Wasserhof was the best.

A SECOND

The road is not a pleasant one.

The road isn't a nice one.

THE OTHERS

What will you do?

What are you going to do?

A THIRD

I'll join the rest.

I’ll join everyone else.

A FOURTH

Let's up to Burghof, there you'll find good cheer,
The prettiest maidens and the best of beer,
And brawls of a prime sort.

Let's head up to Burghof; there you'll find good vibes,
The loveliest girls and the finest beer,
And some top-notch brawls.

A FIFTH

You scapegrace! How;
Your skin still itching for a row?
Thither I will not go, I loathe the place.

You troublemaker! How;
Is your skin still itching for a fight?
I won't go there, I can't stand the place.

SERVANT GIRL

No, no! I to the town my steps retrace.

No, no! I'm going back to town.

ANOTHER

Near yonder poplars he is sure to be.

He’s sure to be near those poplar trees.

THE FIRST

And if he is, what matters it to me!
With you he'll walk, he'll dance with none but you,
And with your pleasures what have I to do?

And if he is, what does it matter to me!
With you he'll walk, he'll dance with no one but you,
And what do I have to do with your pleasures?

THE SECOND

To-day he will not be alone, he said
His friend would be with him, the curly-head.

Today he won’t be alone, he said
His friend, the curly-haired guy, would be with him.

STUDENT

Why how those buxom girls step on!
Come, brother, we will follow them anon.
Strong beer, a damsel smartly dress'd,
Stinging tobacco,—these I love the best.

Why, look at how those curvy girls strut!
Come on, brother, let's follow them soon.
Strong beer, a girl dressed to impress,
A sharp tobacco—those are my favorites.

BURGHER'S DAUGHTER

Look at those handsome fellows there!
'Tis really shameful, I declare,
The very best society they shun,
After those servant girls forsooth, to run.

Look at those good-looking guys over there!
It's really shameful, I must say,
They avoid the best company,
Chasing after those servant girls, indeed.

SECOND STUDENT (to the first)

Not quite so fast! for in our rear,
Two girls, well-dress'd, are drawing near;
Not far from us the one doth dwell,
And sooth to say, II like her well.
They walk demurely, yet you'll see,
That they will let us join them presently.

Not so fast! Because behind us,
Two well-dressed girls are approaching;
One lives nearby,
And honestly, I like her a lot.
They walk quietly, but you'll notice,
That they’ll let us join them soon enough.

THE FIRST

Not I! restraints of all kinds I detest.
Quick! let us catch the wild-game ere it flies,
The hand on Saturday the mop that plies,
Will on the Sunday fondle you the best.

Not me! I hate any kind of restrictions.
Quick! Let’s catch the wild game before it runs away,
The hand that handles the mop on Saturday,
Will be the one that loves you the most on Sunday.

BURGHER

No, this new Burgomaster, I like him not, God knows,
Now, he's in office, daily more arrogant he grows;
And for the town, what doth he do for it?
Are not things worse from day to day?
To more restraints we must submit;
And taxes more than ever pay.

No, I don't like this new Burgomaster, God knows,
Now that he's in office, he gets more arrogant every day;
And what does he do for the town?
Aren't things getting worse every day?
We have to put up with more restrictions;
And pay higher taxes than ever.

BEGGAR (sings)

Kind gentleman and ladies fair,
So rosy-cheek'd and trimly dress'd,
Be pleas'd to listen to my prayer,
Relieve and pity the distress'd.
Let me not vainly sing my lay!
His heart's most glad whose hand is free.
Now when all men keep holiday,
Should be a harvest-day to me.

Kind gentlemen and ladies,
With your rosy cheeks and neat attire,
Please listen to my request,
Help and show compassion to those in need.
Don’t let my song be in vain!
The happiest heart is the one that gives freely.
Now that everyone is celebrating,
This should be a day of abundance for me.

ANOTHER BURGHER

On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting
Than chatting about war and war's alarms,
When folk in Turkey, up in arms,
Far off, are 'gainst each other fighting.
We at the window stand, our glasses drain,
And watch adown the stream the painted vessels gliding,
Then joyful we at eve come home again,
And peaceful times we bless, peace long-abiding.

On holidays and Sundays, I know nothing more inviting
Than talking about war and its dangers,
When people in Turkey are fighting each other,
Far away, with arms raised.
We stand by the window, finish our drinks,
And watch the colorful boats gliding down the stream,
Then happily, we come home in the evening,
And we bless the peaceful times, wishing for peace to last long.

THIRD BURGHER

Ay, neighbour! So let matters stand for me!
There they may scatter one another's brains,
And wild confusion round them see—
So here at home in quiet all remains!

Sure, neighbor! Let things be as they are for me!
They can go ahead and mess with each other’s heads,
And let chaos swirl around them—
Meanwhile, I’ll stay calm and peaceful at home!

OLD WOMAN (to the BURGHERS' DAUGHTERS)

Heyday! How smart! The fresh young blood!
Who would not fall in love with you?
Not quite so proud! 'Tis well and good!
And what you wish, that I could help you to.

Wow! How clever! The energy of youth!
Who wouldn't fall for you?
Not so boastful! That's fine!
And whatever you desire, I wish I could assist you with.

BURGHER'S DAUGHTER

Come, Agatha! I care not to be seen
Walking in public with these witches. True,
My future lover, last St. Andrew's E'en,
In flesh and blood she brought before my view.

Come on, Agatha! I don't want to be seen
Walking in public with these witches. It's true,
My future lover, last St. Andrew's Eve,
In person she was brought before my eyes.

ANOTHER

And mine she show'd me also in the glass,
A soldier's figure, with companions bold;
I look around, I seek him as I pass,
In vain, his form I nowhere can behold.

And she also showed me my reflection in the glass,
A soldier's figure, surrounded by brave companions;
I look around, searching for him as I walk,
But I can't find him anywhere.

SOLDIERS

Fortress with turrets
And walls high in air,
Damsel disdainful,
Haughty and fair,
These be my prey!
Bold is the venture,
Costly the pay!

Fortress with towers
And walls reaching high,
Lady so proud,
Arrogant and beautiful,
These are my targets!
It's a daring mission,
But the price is steep!

Hark how the trumpet
Thither doth call us,
Where either pleasure
Or death may befall us.
Hail to the tumult!
Life's in the field!
Damsel and fortress
To us must yield.
Bold is the venture,
Costly the pay!
Gaily the soldier
Marches away.

Listen to the trumpet
Calling us there,
Where either joy
Or death may find us.
Cheers to the chaos!
Life's out in the field!
Damsel and fortress
Must give in to us.
The venture is bold,
The cost is high!
Happily the soldier
Marches on by.

FAUST and WAGNER

FAUST

Loosed from their fetters are streams and rills
Through the gracious spring-tide's all-quickening glow;
Hope's budding joy in the vale doth blow;
Old Winter back to the savage hills
Withdraweth his force, decrepid now.
Thence only impotent icy grains
Scatters he as he wings his flight,
Striping with sleet the verdant plains;
But the sun endureth no trace of white;
Everywhere growth and movement are rife,
All things investing with hues of life:
Though flowers are lacking, varied of dye,
Their colours the motly throng supply.
Turn thee around, and from this height,
Back to the town direct thy sight.
Forth from the hollow, gloomy gate,
Stream forth the masses, in bright array.
Gladly seek they the sun to-day;
The Lord's Resurrection they celebrate:
For they themselves have risen, with joy,

Freed from their chains are streams and brooks
Through the gentle spring's revitalizing glow;
Hope's budding joy blows through the valley;
Old Winter retreats to the wild hills
Weak and worn.
Now he can only scatter impotent icy bits
As he takes flight,
Leaving sleet on the green fields;
But the sun won’t allow any trace of white;
Everywhere there’s growth and movement,
All things bursting with colors of life:
Though flowers are missing, diverse in hue,
Their colors are supplied by the motley crowd.
Turn around, and from this height,
Look back toward the town.
From the dark, gloomy gate,
The masses pour out, dressed in bright colors.
They happily seek the sun today;
They celebrate the Lord's Resurrection:
For they too have risen, filled with joy,

From tenement sordid, from cheerless room,
From bonds of toil, from care and annoy,
From gable and roof's o'er-hanging gloom,
From crowded alley and narrow street,
And from the churches' awe-breathing night,
All now have come forth into the light.
Look, only look, on nimble feet,
Through garden and field how spread the throng,
How o'er the river's ample sheet,
Many a gay wherry glides along;
And see, deep sinking in the tide,
Pushes the last boat now away.
E'en from yon far hill's path-worn side,
Flash the bright hues of garments gay.
Hark! Sounds of village mirth arise;
This is the people's paradise.

From the rundown apartment, from the joyless room,
From the chains of hard work, from worry and hassle,
From the overhanging gloom of rooftops and eaves,
From the crowded alleys and narrow streets,
And from the solemn night of the churches,
Everyone has now stepped into the light.
Look, just look, at how quickly they move,
Through gardens and fields, a crowd is spreading,
How across the wide river,
Many cheerful boats glide along;
And see, sinking low in the tide,
The last boat is pushing away now.
Even from that distant, worn hillside,
Bright colors of joyful clothing flash.
Listen! The sounds of village celebrations rise;
This is the paradise of the people.

Both great and small send up a cheer;
Here am I man, I feel it here.

Both the great and the small cheer;
Here I am, a man, I feel it here.

WAGNER

Sir Doctor, in a walk with you
There's honour and instruction too;
Yet here alone I care not to resort,
Because I coarseness hate of every sort.
This fiddling, shouting, skittling, I detest;
I hate the tumult of the vulgar throng;
They roar as by the evil one possess'd,
And call it pleasure, call it song.

Sir Doctor, going for a walk with you
Is both an honor and a lesson too;
But here alone, I don’t want to come,
Because I can't stand anything rough or dumb.
I can't stand the fiddling, shouting, and clowning;
I loathe the chaos of the crowd that’s around;
They scream as if they’re possessed by something grim,
And call it joy, call it a song, on a whim.

PEASANTS (under the linden-tree)
Dance and song
The shepherd for the dance was dress'd,
With ribbon, wreath, and coloured vest,
A gallant show displaying.
And round about the linden-trees,
They footed it right merrily. Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
So fiddle-bow was braying.

PEASANTS (under the linden tree)
Dance and song
The shepherd was dressed for the dance,
With ribbons, a wreath, and a colorful vest,
Looking quite dashing.
And around the linden trees,
They danced joyfully. Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
The fiddle was playing loudly.

Our swain amidst the circle press'd,
He push'd a maiden trimly dress'd,
And jogg'd her with his elbow;
The buxom damsel turn'd her head,
"Now that's a stupid trick!" she said, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchhesia! Heisa! He!
Don't be so rude, good fellow!

Our guy in the crowd nudged,
He bumped into a nicely dressed girl,
And jabbed her with his elbow;
The cheerful girl turned her head,
"That's such a silly move!" she said, Yay! Yay!
Hooray! Hey! Hey!
Don't be so rude, buddy!

Swift in the circle they advanced,
They danced to right, to left they danced,
And all the skirts were swinging.
And they grew red, and they grew warm,
Panting, they rested arm in arm, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
To hip their elbow bringing.

They moved quickly in a circle,
Dancing to the right, then to the left,
And all the skirts were swaying.
They flushed and warmed up,
Breathing heavily, they rested arm in arm, Hooray! Hooray!
Hooray! He!
Bringing their elbows down.

Don't make so free! How many a maid
Has been betroth'd and then betray'd;
And has repented after!
Yet still he flatter'd her aside,
And from the linden, far and wide, Juchhe! Juchhe!
Juchheisa! Heisa! He!
Rang fiddle-bow and laughter.

Don't be so careless! How many young women
Have been engaged and then let down;
And have regretted it later!
Yet he kept sweet-talking her,
And from the linden, everywhere, Hooray! Hooray!
Hooray! Hey! Hey!
The fiddle sang and laughter rang out.

OLD PEASANT

Doctor, 'tis really kind of you,
To condescend to come this way,
A highly learned man like you,
To join our mirthful throng to-day.
Our fairest cup I offer you,
Which we with sparkling drink have crown'd,
And pledging you, I pray aloud,
That every drop within its round,

Doctor, it's really kind of you,
To take the time to come this way,
A highly educated man like you,
To join our cheerful group today.
Our finest drink I offer you,
Which we've topped with sparkling cheer,
And raising a toast, I shout out loud,
That every drop in this cup here,

While it your present thirst allays,
May swell the number of your days.

While it satisfies your current thirst,
It may increase the length of your days.

FAUST

I take the cup you kindly reach,
Thanks and prosperity to each!
(The crowd gather round in a circle.)

I take the cup you kindly offer,
Thanks and good fortune to everyone!
(The crowd gathers around in a circle.)

OLD PEASANT

Your heart is driven by a single impulse;
Unaware of the other, it still remains!
Two souls, sadly, are housed within my chest,
Which struggle there for total control:
One clings to the world with stubborn desire,
And tightly bound, it still holds on;
Above the fog, the other yearns,
With sacred intensity, for higher realms.
Oh, are there spirits in the air,
Who float between heaven and earth, wielding power,
Come down from your golden atmosphere,
Lead me to new scenes, new life, and greater fulfillment!
If only I had a magic cloak,
To carry me away like I’m on invisible wings,
I’d value it far more than the most expensive outfit,
And I wouldn’t trade it for the robe of kings.

WAGNER

Call not the spirits who on mischief wait!
Their troop familiar, streaming through the air,
From every quarter threaten man's estate,
And danger in a thousand forms prepare!
They drive impetuous from the frozen north,
With fangs sharp-piercing, and keen arrowy tongue
From the ungenial east they issue forth,
And prey, with parching breath, upon thy lungs;
If, waft'd on the desert's flaming wing,
They from the south heap fire upon the brain,
Refreshment from the west at first they bring,
Anon to drown thyself and field and plain.
In wait for mischief, they are prompt to hear;
With guileful purpose our behests obey;
Like ministers of grace they oft appear,
And lisp like angels, to betray.
But let us hence! Grey eve doth all things blend,

Do not call on the spirits who lurk, ready to cause trouble!
Their familiar group, sweeping through the air,
From every direction threatens humanity’s well-being,
And prepares danger in a thousand ways!
They rush down from the frozen north,
With sharp fangs and a piercing, arrow-like tongue.
From the harsh east they come forth,
And attack, with a dry breath, your lungs;
If, carried on the burning wings of the desert,
They from the south heap fire upon your mind,
At first, they bring relief from the west,
But soon you’ll drown yourself and your fields and plains.
Eager for trouble, they’re ready to listen;
With deceptive intentions, they carry out our commands;
Like agents of grace, they often appear,
And speak sweetly like angels, only to betray.
But let’s get out of here! The grey evening blends everything together,

The air grows chill, the mists descend!
'Tis in the evening first our home we prize—
Why stand you thus, and gaze with wondering eyes?
What in the gloom thus moves you?

STUDY
FAUST (entering with the dog)

Now field and meadow I've forsaken;
O'er them deep night her veil doth draw;
In us the better soul doth waken,
With feelings of foreboding awe,
All lawless promptings, deeds unholy,
Now slumber, and all wild desires;
The love of man doth sway us wholly,
And love to God the soul inspires.

Now I've left behind the fields and meadows;
Over them, deep night casts her veil;
In us, the better part awakens,
With feelings of uneasy awe,
All lawless urges and unholy acts;
Now rest, along with all wild desires;
The love of people guides us completely,
And love for God inspires the soul.

Peace, poodle, peace! Scamper not thus; obey me!
Why at the threshold snuffest thou so?
Behind the stove now quietly lay thee,
My softest cushion to thee I'll throw.
As thou, without, didst please and amuse me
Running and frisking about on the hill,
So tendance now I will not refuse thee;
A welcome guest, if thou'lt be still.

Peace, poodle, peace! Don't run around like that; listen to me!
Why are you sniffing at the door like that?
Now just lie quietly behind the stove,
I'll give you my softest cushion.
Just as you entertained me outside
Running and playing on the hill,
I won't deny you my care now;
You're a welcome guest, as long as you stay calm.

Ah! when the friendly taper gloweth,
Once more within our narrow cell,
Then in the heart itself that knoweth,
A light the darkness doth dispel.
Reason her voice resumes; returneth
Hope's gracious bloom, with promise rife;
For streams of life the spirit yearneth,
Ah! for the very fount of life.

Ah! when the friendly candle shines,
Once more in our small space,
Then in the heart that understands,
A light that drives away the darkness.
Reason speaks again; hope returns
With its gracious bloom, full of promise;
For the spirit yearns for streams of life,
Ah! for the very source of life.

Poodle, snarl not! with the tone that arises.
Hallow'd and peaceful, my soul within,
Accords not thy growl, thy bestial din.
We find it not strange, that man despises
What he conceives not;
That he the good and fair misprizes—
Finding them often beyond his ken;
Will the dog snarl at them like men?

Poodle, don’t growl! with that rising tone.
Hallowed and peaceful, my soul inside,
Doesn’t align with your growl, your animal noise.
It’s not surprising that man looks down on
What he doesn’t understand;
That he undervalues the good and beautiful—
Finding them often beyond his grasp;
Will the dog snarl at them like people?

But ah! Despite my will, it stands confessed,
Contentment welleth up no longer in my breast.
Yet wherefore must the stream, alas, so soon be dry,
That we once more athirst should lie?
Full oft this sad experience hath been mine;
Nathless the want admits of compensation;
For things above the earth we learn to pine,
Our spirits yearn for revelation,
Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent,

But oh! Despite my intentions, it’s clear,
Contentment no longer rises in my heart.
But why must the stream run dry so quickly,
Leaving us once again thirsty?
I’ve often had this sorrowful experience;
Yet the lack can still be balanced out;
For we learn to long for things beyond the earth,
Our souls crave enlightenment,
Which shines with a beauty unmatched anywhere,

Than here in the New Testament.
To ope the ancient text an impulse strong
Impels me, and its sacred lore,
With honest purpose to explore,
And render into my loved German tongue.
(He opens a volume, and applies himself to it.)
'Tis writ, "In the beginning was the Word!"
I pause, perplex'd! Who now will help afford?
I cannot the mere Word so highly prize;
I must translate it otherwise,
If by the spirit guided as I read.
"In the beginning was the Sense!" Take heed,
The import of this primal sentence weigh,
Lest thy too hasty pen be led astray!
Is force creative then of Sense the dower?
"In the beginning was the Power!"
Thus should it stand: yet, while the line I trace.
A something warns me, once more to efface.
The spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed,
I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"

Than here in the New Testament.
A strong urge draws me to open the ancient text
And explore its sacred teachings
With a sincere intention,
To translate it into my beloved German tongue.
(He opens a book and starts working on it.)
It’s written, "In the beginning was the Word!"
I pause, confused! Who will help me now?
I can’t value the Word so highly;
I need to translate it differently,
If I’m guided by the spirit as I read.
"In the beginning was the Sense!" Pay attention,
Consider the meaning of this foundational statement,
So your hasty pen doesn’t lead you astray!
Is creative force then the source of Sense?
"In the beginning was the Power!"
That should be it; yet as I write the line,
Something warns me to erase it once more.
The spirit guides me! Free from anxious doubts,
I write, "In the beginning was the Deed!"

Am I with thee my room to share,
Poodle, thy barking now forbear,
Forbear thy howling!
Comrade so noisy, ever growling,
I cannot suffer here to dwell.
One or the other, mark me well,
Forthwith must leave the cell.
I'm loath the guest-right to withhold;
The door's ajar, the passage clear;
But what must now mine eyes behold!
Are nature's laws suspended here?
Real is it, or a phantom show?
In length and breadth how doth my poodle grow!
He lifts himself with threat'ning mien,
In likeness of a dog no longer seen!
What spectre have I harbour'd thus!
Huge as a hippopotamus,
With fiery eye, terrific tooth!
Ah I now I know thee, sure enough!
For such a base, half-hellish brood,
The key of Solomon is good.

Am I sharing my room with you,
Poodle, please stop your barking too,
Hold back your howling!
Buddy, always so noisy and growling,
I can't stay here any longer.
One of you has to go, understand me well,
You need to leave right away.
I hate to deny hospitality;
The door's open, the way is clear;
But what do my eyes see now?
Are nature's laws on hold here?
Is this real, or just a ghostly show?
How does my poodle grow in size!
He stands up with a threatening look,
Not looking like a dog I've ever known!
What kind of specter have I welcomed here!
Massive as a hippopotamus,
With a fiery gaze and terrifying teeth!
Ah, now I recognize you, that's for sure!
For such a vile, half-demonic creature,
The key of Solomon is needed.

SPIRITS (without)
Captur'd there within is one!
Stay without and follow none!
Like a fox in iron snare,
Hell's old lynx is quaking there,
But take heed!
Hover round, above, below,
To and fro,
Then from durance is he freed!
Can ye aid him, spirits all,
Leave him not in mortal thrall!
Many a time and oft bath he
Served us, when at liberty.

SPIRITS (without)
Trapped in there is one!
Stay outside and don’t follow anyone!
Like a fox caught in a trap,
Hell's old lynx is shaking there,
But be careful!
Hover around, above, below,
Back and forth,
Then he will be set free!
Can you help him, spirits all,
Don’t leave him in a mortal trap!
Many times has he
Served us when he was free.

FAUST

The monster to confront, at first,
The spell of Four must be rehears'd;

The monster to face, at first,
The spell of Four must be practiced;

Salamander shall kindle,
Writhe nymph of the wave,
In air sylph shall dwindle,
And Kobold shall slave.

Salamander will spark,
Wave nymph will twist,
In the air, a sylph will fade,
And Kobold will serve.

Who doth ignore
The primal Four,
Nor knows aright
Their use and might,
O'er spirits will he
Ne'er master be!

Who ignores
The essential Four,
Or doesn't truly know
Their purpose and power,
Over spirits will he
Never be the master!

Vanish in the fiery glow,
Salamander!
Rushingly together flow.
Undine!
Shimmer in the meteor's gleam,
Sylphide!
Hither bring thine homely aid,

Vanish in the fiery glow,
Salamander!
Rush together, flow.
Undine!
Shimmer in the meteor's light,
Sylphide!
Bring your humble help here,

Incubus! Incubus!
Step forth! I do adjure thee thus!
None of the Four
Lurks in the beast:
He grins at me, untroubled as before;
I have not hurt him in the least.
A spell of fear
Thou now shalt hear.
Art thou, comrade fell,
Fugitive from hell?

Incubus! Incubus!
Come forward! I summon you this way!
None of the Four
Is hiding in the beast:
He smiles at me, as calm as ever;
I haven’t harmed him at all.
You will now hear
A spell of fear.
Are you, dark companion,
A runaway from hell?

See then this sign,
Before which incline
The murky troops of Hell!
With bristling hair now doth the creature swell.

See this sign,
Before which bow down
The dark forces of Hell!
With bristling hair, the creature now swells.

Canst thou, reprobate,
Read the uncreate,
Unspeakable, diffused
Throughout the heavenly sphere,
Shamefully abused,
Transpierced with nail and spear!

Can you, rejected one,
Read the uncreated,
Unspeakable, spread out
Throughout the heavenly realm,
Shamefully mistreated,
Pierced with nails and spear!

Behind the stove, tam'd by my spells,
Like an elephant he swells;
Wholly now he fills the room,
He into mist will melt away.
Ascend not to the ceiling! Come,
Thyself at the master's feet now lay!
Thou seest that mine is no idle threat.
With holy fire I will scorch thee yet!
Wait not the might
That lies in the triple-glowing light!
Wait not the might
Of all my arts in fullest measure!

Behind the stove, tamed by my spells,
Like an elephant he swells;
Now he completely fills the room,
He’ll vanish into mist soon.
Don’t rise up to the ceiling! Come,
Lay yourself at the master’s feet now!
You see that I'm not just making threats.
With holy fire, I’ll scorch you yet!
Don’t wait for the power
That lies in the triple-glowing light!
Don’t wait for the power
Of all my skills in their full measure!

MEPHISTOPHELES (As the mist sinks, comes forward from behind the stove, in the dress of a travelling scholar)

MEPHISTOPHELES (As the fog clears, steps forward from behind the stove, in the attire of a traveling scholar)

And, honestly, so far with little success.
Against everything, this clumsy world,
The something—it still exists;
It's not yet been thrown into ruin,
Despite all my efforts.
I've faced storms and earthquakes, fire and flood;
Yet land and sea remain unchanged!
And when it comes to people and beasts,—
I can't exert my control over them either.
How many countless lives have I taken!
Yet fresh young blood keeps circulating.
the damned

MEPHISTOPHELES
My friend,
This hour of enjoyment is more intense,
It will captivate every delighted sense,
More than you could experience within the limits
Of an entire year's unchanging cycle;
And what the delicate spirits sing,
The beautiful images they bring,
Are not mere tricks of magic.
Rich fragrances will delight your sense of smell,
You'll savor the finest sweets,
Your emotions will thrill with ecstasy.

No preparation do we need,
Here we together are. Proceed.

No preparation is needed,
Here we are together. Let’s go.

SPIRITS

Hence overshadowing gloom,
Vanish from sight!
O'er us thine azure dome,
Bend, beauteous light!
Dark clouds that o'er us spread,
Melt in thin air!
Stars, your soft radiance shed,
Tender and fair.
Girt with celestial might,
Winging their airy flight,
Spirits are thronging.
Follows their forms of light
Infinite longing!
Flutter their vestures bright
O'er field and grove!
Where in their leafy bower
Lovers the livelong hour
Vow deathless love.
Soft bloometh bud and bower!
Bloometh the grove!
Grapes from the spreading vine
Crown the full measure;
Fountains of foaming wine
Gush from the pressure.
Still where the currents wind,
Gems brightly gleam.
Leaving the hills behind
On rolls the stream;
Now into ample seas,
Spreadeth the flood;
Laying the sunny leas,
Mantled with wood.
Rapture the feather'd throng,
Gaily careering,
Sip as they float along;
Sunward they're steering;
On towards the isles of light
Winging their way,
That on the waters bright
Dancingly play.
Hark to the choral strain,
Joyfully ringing!
While on the grassy plain
Dancers are springing;
Climbing the steep hill's side,
Skimming the glassy tide,
Wander they there;
Others on pinions wide
Wing the blue air;
All lifeward tending, upward still wending,
Towards yonder stars that gleam,
Far, far above;
Stars from whose tender beam
Rains blissful love.

So, overshadowing gloom,
Disappear from view!
Over us, your blue sky,
Bend, beautiful light!
Dark clouds that spread above,
Dissolve into thin air!
Stars, share your soft glow,
Gentle and fair.
Surrounded by celestial might,
Soaring in their airy flight,
Spirits are gathering.
Their glowing forms
Follow infinite longing!
Fluttering their bright attire
Over fields and groves!
Where in their leafy shelter
Lovers pass the hours
Vowing eternal love.
Softly blooms the bud and bower!
The grove blossoms!
Grapes from the sprawling vine
Crown the full bounty;
Fountains of bubbling wine
Flow from the pressure.
Still where the currents wind,
Gems brightly shine.
Leaving the hills behind,
The stream flows on;
Now into spacious seas,
Spreads the flood;
Laying the sunny meadows,
Covered in woods.
Joy fills the feathered flock,
Happily soaring,
Sipping as they drift along;
Toward the sun they're heading;
Onwards to the islands of light
Flying their way,
That on the bright waters
Dance playfully.
Listen to the joyful song,
Happily ringing!
While on the grassy field
Dancers are springing;
Climbing the steep hillside,
Skimming the smooth tide,
They wander there;
Others with wide wings
Soar through the blue air;
All lifting upwards, always striving,
Towards those twinkling stars,
Far, far above;
Stars from whose gentle beams
Shower blissful love.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Well done, my dainty spirits! now he slumbers!
Ye have entranc'd him fairly with your numbers!
This minstrelsy of yours I must repay,—
Thou art not yet the man to hold the devil fast!—
With fairest shapes your spells around him cast,
And plunge him in a sea of dreams!
But that this charm be rent, the threshold passed,
Tooth of rat the way must clear.
I need not conjure long it seems,
One rustles hitherward, and soon my voice will hear.
The master of the rats and mice,
Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,
Commands thy presence; without fear
Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,
Where he with oil has smear'd it.—Thou
Com'st hopping forth already! Now
To work! The point that holds me bound
Is in the outer angle found.
Another bite—so—now 'tis done—
Now, Faustus, till we meet again, dream on.

Well done, my delicate spirits! Now he’s asleep!
You’ve enchanted him completely with your tunes!
I have to repay you for this music of yours,—
You’re not yet the person who can hold the devil tight!—
With your loveliest shapes, cast your spells around him,
And drown him in a sea of dreams!
But for this charm to break and for him to cross the threshold,
A rat's tooth must clear the way.
It seems I won’t need to summon long,
One is rustling this way, and soon I will hear my voice.
The master of rats and mice,
Of flies and frogs, of bugs and lice,
Requests your presence; without fear,
Come forth and gnaw the threshold here,
Where he has smeared it with oil.—You
Are already hopping out! Now
Let’s get to work! The point that binds me
Is found in the outer corner.
Another bite—there—now it’s done—
Now, Faustus, until we meet again, dream on.

FAUST (awaking)
Am I once more deluded! must I deem
That thus the throng of spirits disappear?
The devil's presence, was it but a dream?
Hath but a poodle scap'd and left me here?

FAUST (awakening)
Am I being fooled again! Do I really think
That this crowd of spirits has vanished?
Was the devil's presence just a dream?
Did only a poodle escape and leave me here?

STUDY FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

A knock? Come in! Who now would break my rest?

A knock? Come in! Who is interrupting my rest now?

MEPHISTOPHELES

'Tis I!

It’s me!

FAUST

Come in!

Come on in!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Thrice be the words express'd.

Three times be the words expressed.

If o'er my soul the tone familiar, stealing,
Drew me from harrowing thought's bewild'ring maze,
Touching the ling'ring chords of childlike feeling,
With sweet harmonies of happier days:
So curse I all, around the soul that windeth
Its magic and alluring spell,
And with delusive flattery bindeth
Its victim to this dreary cell!
Curs'd before all things be the high opinion,
Wherewith the spirit girds itself around!
Of shows delusive curs'd be the dominion,
Within whose mocking sphere our sense is bound!
Accurs'd of dreams the treacherous wiles,
The cheat of glory, deathless fame!
Accurs'd what each as property beguiles,
Wife, child, slave, plough, whate'er its name!
Accurs'd be mammon, when with treasure
He doth to daring deeds incite:
Or when to steep the soul in pleasure,
He spreads the couch of soft delight!
Curs'd be the grape's balsamic juice!
Accurs'd love's dream, of joys the first!
Accurs'd be hope! accurs'd be faith!
And more than all, be patience curs'd!

If the familiar tone softly reaches my soul,
Pulling me from the confusing maze of dark thoughts,
Touching the lingering strings of childhood feelings,
With sweet harmonies of happier times:
So I curse everything that wraps around the soul
With its magic and enticing spell,
And with deceptive flattery binds
Its victim to this miserable prison!
Cursed above all is the high opinion,
With which the spirit surrounds itself!
Cursed be the deceptive shows of power,
Within whose mocking sphere our senses are trapped!
Cursed are the treacherous charms of dreams,
The illusion of glory, eternal fame!
Cursed is what each person tricks themselves into owning,
Wife, child, slave, plow, whatever its name!
Cursed be wealth, when it spurs us to daring deeds:
Or when it immerses the soul in pleasure,
Setting out the couch of soft indulgence!
Cursed be the sweet juice of the grape!
Cursed be love's dream, the first of joys!
Cursed be hope! Cursed be faith!
And more than anything, cursed be patience!

CHORUS OP SPIRITS (invisible)

CHORUS OF INVISIBLE SPIRITS

Woe! woe!
Thou hast destroy'd
The beautiful world
With violent blow;
'Tis shiver'd! 'tis shatter'd!
The fragments abroad by a demigod scatter'd!
Now we sweep
The wrecks into nothingness!
Fondly we weep
The beauty that's gone!
Thou, 'mongst the Sons of earth,
Lofty and mighty one,
Build it once more!
In thine own bosom the lost world restore!
Now with unclouded sense
Enter a new career;
Songs shall salute thine ear,
Ne'er heard before!

Oh no! Oh no!
You've destroyed
The beautiful world
With a violent blow;
It's shattered! It's broken!
The pieces scattered everywhere by a demigod!
Now we gather
The wreckage into nothingness!
We sadly weep
For the beauty that's gone!
You, among the Children of Earth,
Great and powerful one,
Build it once again!
In your own heart, restore the lost world!
Now with clear insight
Start a new journey;
Songs will greet your ears,
Never heard before!

MEPHISTOPHELES

My little ones these spirits be.
Hark! with shrewd intelligence,
How they recommend to thee
Action, and the joys of sense!
In the busy world to dwell,
Fain they would allure thee hence:
For within this lonely cell,
Stagnate sap of life and sense.

My little ones, these are the spirits.
Listen! With clever insight,
They suggest to you
Action and the joys of life!
In the bustling world to live,
They would gladly entice you away:
For inside this lonely space,
The life and energy stagnate.

Forbear to trifle longer with thy grief,
Which, vulture-like, consumes thee in this den.
The worst society is some relief,
Making thee feel thyself a man with men.
Nathless, it is not meant, I trow,
To thrust thee 'mid the vulgar throng.

Stop wasting more time with your grief,
Which, like a vulture, devours you in this place.
The worst company is still some comfort,
Making you feel like a man among men.
Still, I don’t believe it’s meant,
To push you into the crowd of ordinary people.

While beautiful and green fields stretch out all around.

FAUST

But how shall we begin?

But how should we start?

MEPHISTOPHELES

We will go hence with speed,
A place of torment this indeed!
A precious life, thyself to bore,
And some few youngsters evermore!
Leave that to neighbour Paunch!—withdraw,
Why wilt thou plague thyself with thrashing straw?
The very best that thou dost know
Thou dar'st not to the striplings show.
One in the passage now doth wait!

We will leave quickly,
This place is definitely torment!
A valuable life, to waste yourself,
And a few kids forever!
Leave that to neighbor Paunch!—step back,
Why do you want to stress yourself with threshing straw?
The very best you know
You’re afraid to show the youngsters.
Someone is waiting in the hallway now!

FAUST

I'm in no mood to see him now,

I'm not in the mood to see him right now,

MEPHISTOPHELES

Poor lad! He must be tired, I trow;
He must not go disconsolate.
Hand me thy cap and gown; the mask
Is for my purpose quite first rate.
(He changes his dress.)
Now leave it to my wit! I ask
But quarter of an hour; meanwhile equip,
And make all ready for our pleasant trip!
(Exit FAUST.)

Poor guy! He must be exhausted, I guess;
He shouldn't feel so down.
Give me your cap and gown; the mask
Is just perfect for my plan.
(He changes his outfit.)
Now leave it to me! I just need
A quarter of an hour; in the meantime, get ready
And prepare for our fun adventure!
(Exit FAUST.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (in FAUST'S long gown)

In a short time you will improve, my friend,
When of scholastic forms you learn the use;
And how by method all things to reduce.

In no time, you will get better, my friend,
When you learn to use academic forms;
And how to simplify everything through method.

STUDENT

So doth all this my brain confound,
As if a mill-wheel there were turning round.

So all of this confuses my mind,
As if there were a mill wheel spinning around.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Right! But overly anxious thoughts won't help you,
Because that's exactly where ideas fall short,
A word jumps in right when you need it
Words are truly amazing tools,
We build a solid foundation on words,
In words, we can easily have faith,
And we can't lose even a single word.

STUDENT

Your pardon for my importunity;
Yet once more must I trouble you:
On medicine, I'll thank you to supply
A pregnant utterance or two!
Three years! how brief the appointed tide!
The field, heaven knows, is all too wide!
If but a friendly hint be thrown,
'Tis easier then to feel one's way.

I apologize for being so forward;
But I must bother you once again:
For medical advice, I'd appreciate
A few insightful words or so!
Three years! How short the time we've got!
The field, as you know, is way too vast!
If you could just offer a friendly tip,
It would be easier to find my way.

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)

MEPHISTOPHELES (to himself)

I'm weary of the dry pedantic tone,
And must again the genuine devil play.

I'm tired of the dry, boring tone,
And I have to play the real devil again.

(Aloud)
Of medicine the spirit's caught with ease,
The great and little world you study through,
That things may then their course pursue,
As heaven may please.
In vain abroad you range through science' ample space,
Each man learns only that which learn he can;
Who knows the moment to embrace,
He is your proper man.
In person you are tolerably made,
Nor in assurance will you be deficient:
Self-confidence acquire, be not afraid,
Others will then esteem you a proficient.
Learn chiefly with the sex to deal!
Their thousands ahs and ohs,
These the sage doctor knows,
He only from one point can heal.
Assume a decent tone of courteous ease,
You have them then to humour as you please.
First a diploma must belief infuse,
That you in your profession take the lead:
You then at once those easy freedoms use
For which another many a year must plead;
Learn how to feel with nice address
The dainty wrist;—and how to press,
With ardent furtive glance, the slender waist,
To feel how tightly it is laced.

(Aloud)
The spirit easily gets caught up in medicine,
You explore both the big and small worlds,
So that things can follow their natural course,
As heaven decides.
It's pointless to wander through the vastness of science,
Each person only learns what they are capable of;
Whoever knows when to take their chance,
That's the person you want.
In your appearance, you’re fairly well put together,
And you'll be confident enough:
Gain some self-assurance, don’t be shy,
Then others will see you as skilled.
Make sure to understand how to interact with women!
Their countless gasps and sighs,
These are things the wise doctor is aware of,
As he can only heal from one specific angle.
Adopt a pleasant, easygoing tone,
Then you can charm them however you like.
First, have a diploma to inspire trust,
That shows you’re a leader in your field:
Then you can immediately use those casual freedoms
That others might have to argue for years;
Learn to sensibly feel the delicate wrist;—
And how to touch,
With an eager, secret glance, the slim waist,
To sense just how tightly it's laced.

STUDENT

There is some sense in that! one sees the how and why.

That makes some sense! You can see the how and why.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Grey is, young friend, all theory:
And green of life the golden tree.

Grey is, young friend, just theory:
And the green of life is the golden tree.

STUDENT

I swear it seemeth like a dream to me.
May I some future time repeat my visit,
To hear on what your wisdom grounds your views?

I swear it seems like a dream to me.
May I one day visit again,
To learn what your wisdom is based on?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Command my humble service when you choose.

Command my humble service whenever you like.

STUDENT

Ere I retire, one boon I must solicit:
Here is my album, do not, Sir, deny
This token of your favour!

Before I leave, there's one favor I need to ask:
Here’s my album, please, sir, don’t refuse
This sign of your kindness!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Willingly!
(He writes and returns the book.)

Willingly!
(He writes and hands back the book.)

STUDENT (reads)

ERITIS SICUT DEUS, SCIENTES BONUM ET MALUM
(He reverently closes the book and retires.)

YOU WILL BE LIKE GOD, KNOWING GOOD AND EVIL
(He respectfully closes the book and leaves.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Let but this ancient proverb be your rule,
My cousin follow still, the wily snake,
And with your likeness to the gods, poor fool,
Ere long be sure your poor sick heart will quake!

Let this old saying guide you,
My cousin still follows the crafty snake,
And with your resemblance to the gods, poor fool,
Soon enough, your fragile heart will start to tremble!

FAUST (enters)
Whither away?

FAUST (enters)
Where are you going?

MEPHISTOPHELES

'Tis thine our course to steer.
The little world, and then the great we'll view.
With what delight, what profit too,
Thou'lt revel through thy gay career!

It's your job to guide our path.
We'll take a look at the small world, then the big one.
How much joy and benefit,
You'll enjoy as you live it up!

FAUST
Despite my length of beard I need
The easy manners that insure success;
Th' attempt I fear can ne'er succeed;
To mingle in the world I want address;
I still have an embarrass'd air, and then
I feel myself so small with other men.

FAUST
Even with my long beard, I still need
The relaxed attitude that leads to success;
I’m afraid my efforts will never succeed;
To fit in with the world, I need to have charm;
I still come off as awkward, and then
I feel so small compared to other men.

MEPHISTOPHELES
Time, my good friend, will all that's needful give;
Be only self-possessed, and thou hast learn'd to live.

MEPHISTOPHELES
Time, my dear friend, will give you everything you need;
Just stay calm, and you've learned how to live.

FAUST

But how are we to start, I pray?
Steeds, servants, carriage, where are they?

But how are we supposed to begin, please?
Horses, servants, carriage, where are they?

MEPHISTOPHELES

We've but to spread this mantle wide,
'Twill serve whereon through air to ride,
No heavy baggage need you take,
When we our bold excursion make,
A little gas, which I will soon prepare,
Lifts us from earth; aloft through air,
Light laden, we shall swiftly steer;—
I wish you joy of your new life-career.

We just need to spread this cover wide,
It'll help us soar through the skies,
You don't need to carry any heavy luggage,
When we set off on our daring adventure,
A little gas, which I'll prepare soon,
Will lift us from the ground; up into the air,
With light loads, we'll quickly navigate;—
I wish you the best in your new journey.

AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG
A Drinking Party

FROSCH

No drinking? Naught a laugh to raise?
None of your gloomy looks, I pray!
You, who so bright were wont to blaze,
Are dull as wetted straw to-day.

No drinking? Not a laugh to be had?
None of those sad faces, please!
You, who used to shine so bright,
Are as dull as wet straw today.

BRANDER

'Tis all your fault; your part you do not bear,
No beastliness, no folly.

It's all your fault; you don't take responsibility,
No meanness, no foolishness.

FROSCH (pours a glass of wine over his head)

There,
You have them both!

You have both of them!

BRANDER

You double beast!

You double trouble!

FROSCH

'Tis what you ask'd me for, at least!

'Tis what you asked me for, at least!

SIEBEL

Whoever quarrels, turn him out!
With open throat drink, roar, and shout.
Hollo! Hollo! Ho!

Whoever argues, kick them out!
Drink loudly, roar, and shout.
Hey! Hey! Hey!

ALTMAYER

Zounds, fellow, cease your deaf'ning cheers!
Bring cotton-wool! He splits my ears.

Zounds, man, stop your loud cheers!
Bring some cotton wool! He's making my ears hurt.

SIEBEL

'Tis when the roof rings back the tone,
Then first the full power of the bass is known.

It's when the roof reflects the sound,
That the true depth of the bass is first discovered.

FROSCH

Right! out with him who takes offence!
A! tara lara da!

Right! Get him out if he's offended!
Ah! Tara lara da!

ALTMAYER

A! tara lara da!

FROSCH

Our throats are tuned. Come let's commence!

Our voices are ready. Come on, let's get started!

(Sings)
The holy Roman empire now,
How holds it still together?

(Sings)
The Holy Roman Empire now,
How does it stay unified?

BRANDER

An ugly song! a song political!
A song offensive! Thank God, every morn
To rule the Roman empire, that you were not born!
I bless my stars at least that mine is not
Either a kaiser's or a chancellor's lot.
Yet 'mong ourselves should one still lord it o'er the rest;
That we elect a pope I now suggest.
Ye know, what quality ensures
A man's success, his rise secures.

An ugly song! A political song!
An offensive song! Thank God, every morning
That you weren't born to rule the Roman Empire!
I at least count my blessings that I’m not
In the position of a kaiser or a chancellor.
Yet among us, should one still dominate the rest;
I now suggest we elect a pope.
You know what quality guarantees
A man's success and ensures his rise.

Faoscn (sings)
Bear, lady nightingale above,
Ten thousand greetings to my love.

Faoscn (sings)
Hey there, nightingale of the night,
Sending my love a thousand greetings.

SIESEL

No greetings to a sweetheart!
No love-songs shall there be!

No hellos to a sweetheart!
No love songs will be allowed!

FROSCH

Love-greetings and love-kisses! Thou shalt not hinder me!

Love greetings and love kisses! You won't stop me!

(Sings)
Undo the bolt! in silly night,
Undo the bolt! the lover wakes.
Shut to the bolt! when morning breaks,

(Sings)
Unlock the door! in the quiet night,
Unlock the door! the lover's awake.
Close the door! when morning comes,

SIEBEL

Ay, sing, sing on, praise her with all, thy might!!
My turn to laugh will come some day.
Me hath she jilted once, you the same trick she'll play.
Some gnome her lover be! where cross-roads meet,
With her to play the fool; or old he-goat,
From Blocksberg coming in swift gallop, bleat
A good night to her, from his hairy throat!
A proper lad of genuine flesh and blood,
Is for the damsel far too good;
The greeting she shall have from me,
To smash her window-panes will be!

Oh, sing, sing on, praise her with all your might!!
My turn to laugh will come someday.
She jilted me once, and you’ll fall for the same trick.
Some gnome must be her lover! where the cross-roads meet,
To play the fool with her; or an old goat,
Rushing in from Blocksberg with a swift gallop, bleating
A good night to her, from his hairy throat!
A proper guy of real flesh and blood,
Is way too good for the girl;
The greeting she'll get from me,
Will be to smash her window panes!

BRANDER (striking on the table)

BRANDER (slamming on the table)

Silence! Attend! to me give ear!
Confess, sirs, I know how to live:
Some love-sick folk are sitting here!
Hence, 'tis but fit, their hearts to cheer,
That I a good-night strain to them should give.
Hark! of the newest fashion is my song!
Strike boldly in the chorus, clear and strong!

They are but mountebanks, I'll lay a bet!

They are just frauds, I bet!

ALTMAYER

Most like.

Most likely.

FROSCH

Mark me, I'll screw it from them yet!

Mark my words, I'll get it from them yet!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

These fellows would not scent the devil out,
E'en though he had them by the very throat!

These guys wouldn't be able to sniff out the devil,
Even if he had them by the throat!

FAUST

SIEBEL

Thanks for your fair salute.
(Aside, glancing at MEPHISTOPHELES.)
How! goes the fellow on a halting foot?

Thanks for your respectful greeting.
(Aside, glancing at MEPHISTOPHELES.)
What! Is he moving along with a limp?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Is it permitted here with you to sit?
Then though good wine is not forthcoming here,
Good company at least our hearts will cheer.

Is it okay for me to sit here with you?
Even if there’s no good wine available,
At least good company will lift our spirits.

ALTMAYER

A dainty gentleman, no doubt of it.

A delicate gentleman, no doubt about it.

FROSCH

You're doubtless recently from Rippach? Pray,
Did you with Master Hans there chance to sup?

You're probably from Rippach, right? Please,
Did you happen to have dinner with Master Hans there?

MEPHISTOPHELES

To-day we pass'd him, but we did not stop!
When last we met him he had much to say
Touching his cousins, and to each he sent
Full many a greeting and kind compliment.
(With an inclination towards FROSCH.)

But be it a brand new one, if you please!

But make it a brand new one, if you don’t mind!

MEPHISTOPHELES

But recently returned from Spain are we,
The pleasant land of wine and minstrelsy.

But we just got back from Spain,
The lovely land of wine and music.

(Sings)
A king there was once reigning,
Who had a goodly flea—

(Sings)
Once upon a time, there was a king,
Who had a lovely flea—

FROSCH

Hark! did you rightly catch the words? a flea!
An odd sort of a guest he needs must be.

Hark! Did you catch those words? A flea!
What a strange kind of guest he must be.

MEPHISTOPHELES (sings)

A king there was once reigning,
Who had a goodly flea,
Him loved he without feigning,
As his own son were he!
His tailor then he summon'd,
The tailor to him goes:
Now measure me the youngster
For jerkin and for hose!

Once there was a king,
Who had a pretty flea,
He loved it without pretending,
As if it were his own son!
Then he called for his tailor,
The tailor went to him:
“Now measure this little one
For a jacket and for pants!”

BRANDER

Take proper heed, the tailor strictly charge,
The nicest measurement to take,
And as he loves his head, to make
The hose quite smooth and not too large!

Pay close attention, the tailor insists,
To get the exact measurements right,
And as he values his own head, to ensure
The pants are perfectly smooth and not too loose!

MEPHISTOPHELES

In satin and in velvet,
Behold the yonker dressed;
Bedizen'd o'er with ribbons,
A cross upon his breast.
Prime minister they made him,
He wore a star of state;
And all his poor relations
Were courtiers, rich and great.

In satin and in velvet,
Check out the young man dressed;
Dressed up with ribbons,
A cross on his chest.
They made him prime minister,
He wore a state star;
And all his poor relatives
Were courtiers, rich and grand.

The gentlemen and ladies
At court were sore distressed;
The queen and all her maidens
Were bitten by the pest,
And yet they dared not scratch them,
Or chase the fleas away.
If we are bit, we catch them,
And crack without delay.

The guys and gals
At court were really worried;
The queen and all her ladies
Got bitten by the pest,
And still they wouldn’t scratch them,
Or chase the fleas away.
If we get bitten, we catch them,
And pop them right away.

CHORUS (shouting)

CHORUS (yelling)

If we are bit, &c.

If we are bitten, etc.

FROSCH

Bravo! That's the song for me!

Bravo! That's the perfect song for me!

SIEBEL

Such be the fate of every flea!

Such is the fate of every flea!

BRANDER

With Clever finger catch and Kill!

With a clever finger, catch and kill!

ALTMAYER

Hurrah for wine and freedom still!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Were but your wine a trifle better, friend,
A glass to freedom I would gladly drain.

If your wine were just a bit better, my friend,
I would gladly raise a glass to freedom.

SIEBEL

You'd better not repeat those words again t

You better not say those words again.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I am afraid the landlord to offend;
Else freely I would treat each worthy guest
From our own cellar to the very best.

I’m afraid to upset the landlord;
Otherwise, I would happily serve each deserving guest
The finest from our own cellar.

SIEBEL

Out with it then! Your doings I'll defend.

Out with it then! I'll stand up for what you've done.

FROSCH

Give a good glass, and straight we'll praise you, one and all.
Only let not your samples be too small;
For if my judgment you desire,
Certes, an ample mouthful I require.

Provide a good drink, and we'll all sing your praises.
Just make sure your servings aren't too small;
If you want my opinion,
Then I definitely need a generous portion.

ALTMAYER (aside)

ALTMAYER (to self)

I guess they're from the Rhenish land.

I guess they're from the Rhineland.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Fetch me a gimlet here!

Get me a gimlet here!

BRANDER

Say, what therewith to bore?
You cannot have the wine-casks at the door?

Say, what’s there to complain about?
You can’t have the wine barrels at the door?

ALTMAYER

Our landlord's tool-basket behind doth yonder stand.

Our landlord's toolbox stands over there.

MEPHISTOPHELES (takes the gimlet)

MEPHISTOPHELES (takes the tool)

(To FROSCH)

Now only say! what liquor will you take?

Now just tell me, what drink will you have?

FROSCH

How mean you that? have you of every sort?

How do you mean that? Do you have every kind?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Each may his own selection make.

Each person may make their own selection.

ALTMAYER (to FROSCH)

Ha! Ha! You lick your lips already at the thought.

Ha! Ha! You're already licking your lips just thinking about it.

FROSCH

Good, if I have my choice, the Rhenish I propose;
For still the fairest gifts the fatherland bestows.

Good, if I can choose, I suggest the Rhine wine;
For still the best gifts my homeland offers.

MEPHISTOPHELES

(boring a hole in the edge of the table opposite to where FROSCH is sitting)

(boring a hole in the edge of the table opposite where FROSCH is sitting)

Give me a little wax—and make some stoppers—quick!

Give me some wax—and make some stoppers—hurry up!

ALTMAYER

Why, this is nothing but a juggler's trick!

Why, this is nothing but a magician's trick!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to BRANDER)

And you?

BRANDER

Champagne's the wine for me;
Right brisk, and sparkling let it be!

Champagne is the wine for me;
Nice and bubbly, just how it should be!

(MEPHISTOPHELES bores; one of the party has in the meantime prepared the wax-stoppers and stopped the holes.)

(MEPHISTOPHELES is getting bored; meanwhile, one of the group has prepared the wax stoppers and plugged the holes.)

BRANDER

What foreign is one always can't decline,
What's good is often scatter'd far apart.
The French your genuine German hates with all his heart,
Yet has a relish for their wine.

What’s foreign is something you can never reject,
What’s good is often spread out everywhere.
The French genuinely dislikes the Germans with all his heart,
Yet he enjoys their wine.

SIEBEL.

(as MEPHISTOPHELES approaches him)

(as MEPHISTOPHELES gets closer)

I like not acid wine, I must allow,
Give me a glass of genuine sweet!

I don't like sour wine, I have to admit,
Just give me a glass of real sweet!

MEPHISTOPHELES (bored)

MEPHISTOPHELES (uninterested)

Tokay
Shall, if you wish it, flow without delay.

Tokay
If you want, it will flow right away.

ALTMAYER

Come! look me in the face! no fooling now!
You are but making fun of us, I trow.

Come! Look me in the face! No messing around now!
You're just making fun of us, I think.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Ah! ah! that would indeed be making free
With such distinguished guests. Come, no delay;
What liquor can I serve you with, I pray?

Ah! ah! that would really be taking liberties
With such esteemed guests. Come on, don't waste time;
What drink can I offer you, please?

ALTMAYER

Only be quick, it matters not to me.
(After the holes are bored and stopped.)

Only be quick; it doesn’t matter to me.
(After the holes are drilled and filled.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (with strange gestures)

MEPHISTOPHELES (making strange gestures)

Grapes the vine-stock bears,
Horns the buck-goat wears!
Wine is sap, the vine is wood,
The wooden board yields wine as good.
With a deeper glance and true
The mysteries of nature view!
Have faith and here's a miracle!
Your stoppers draw and drink your fill!

Grapes grow on the vine,
Horns are what the male goat has!
Wine is the juice, and the vine is the wood,
The wooden barrel produces great wine.
Take a closer look and see
The wonders of nature clearly!
Have faith, and here’s a miracle!
Pop the cork and drink your fill!

ALL.

(as they draw the stoppers and the wine chosen by each runs into his glass) Oh beauteous spring, which flows so far!

(as they draw the stoppers and the wine chosen by each runs into his glass) Oh beautiful spring, which flows so far!

MEPHISTOPHELES
Spill not a single drop, of this beware! (They drink repeatedly.)

(draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs out against him) I burn! I burn!

(draws a stopper out of the table; fire springs out against him) I’m on fire! I’m on fire!

SIEBEL

'Tis sorcery, I vow!
Strike home! The fellow is fair game, I trow!
(They draw their knives and attack MEPHISTOPHELES.)

It's magic, I swear!
Go for it! That guy is definitely a target, I think!
(They pull out their knives and attack MEPHISTOPHELES.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (with solemn gestures)

MEPHISTOPHELES (with serious gestures)

Visionary scenes appear!
Words delusive cheat the ear! Be ye there, and be ye here!
(They stand amazed and gaze at each other.)

Visionary scenes emerge!
Deceptive words fool the ear! Are you there, and are you here?
(They stand in awe and look at each other.)

ALTMAYER

Where am I? What a beauteous land!

Where am I? What a beautiful place!

FROSCH

Vineyards! unless my sight deceives?

Vineyards! Unless I'm seeing things?

SIEBEL

And clust'ring grapes too, close at hand!

And there are clusters of grapes right here!

BRANDER

And underneath the spreading leaves,
What stems there be! What grapes I see!
(He senses SIEBEL by the nose.
The others reciprocally do the same, and raise their knives.)

And beneath the wide branches,
Look at all these stems! Look at the grapes I see!
(He catches SIEBEL’s scent.
The others do the same in turn and lift their knives.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (as above)

MEPHISTOPHELES (like mentioned before)

That none may miracles believe, who now will say?

That no one believes in miracles anymore, who will say that?

WITCHES' KITCHEN

A large caldron hangs over the fire on a low hearth; various figures appear in the vapour rising from it. A FEMALE MONKEY sits beside the caldron to skim it, and watch that it does not boil over. The MALE MONKEY with the young ones is seated near, warming himself. The walls and ceiling are adorned with the strangest articles of witch-furniture.

A large pot hangs over the fire on a low hearth; different figures emerge from the steam rising from it. A FEMALE MONKEY sits next to the pot to skim it and make sure it doesn’t boil over. The MALE MONKEY with the young ones is sitting nearby, keeping warm. The walls and ceiling are decorated with the oddest witch-related items.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES

Quick! Quick! Roll the dice,
Make me rich in no time,
Oh, give me the prize!
Alas, for me!
If I had lots of cash,
Then I would be wise.

MEPHISTOPHELES

How blest the ape would think himself, if he
Could only put into the lottery!

How lucky the ape would think he was if he
Could just enter the lottery!

(In the meantime the young MONKEYS have been playing with a large globe, which they roll forwards)

(In the meantime, the young MONKEYS have been playing with a large globe, rolling it forward.)

THE HE-MONKEY
The world behold;
Unceasingly roll'd,
It riseth and falleth ever;
It ringeth like glass!
How brittle, alas!
'Tis hollow, and resteth never.
How bright the sphere,
Still brighter here!
Now living am I!
Dear son, beware!
Nor venture there!
Thou too must die!
It is of clay;
'Twill crumble away;
There fragments lie.

THE HE-MONKEY
The world watches;
It keeps rolling,
Rising and falling forever;
It sounds like glass!
How fragile, oh no!
It’s empty, and never rests.
How bright the sphere,
Even brighter here!
I am alive now!
Dear son, be careful!
Don’t go there!
You will also die!
It’s made of clay;
It will break away;
Here lie the pieces.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Of what use is the sieve?

Of what use is the strainer?

THE HE-MONKEY (taking it dozen)

The sieve would show,
If thou wert a thief or no?
(He runs to the SHE-MONKEY, and makes her look through it.)
Look through the sieve!
Dost know him the thief,
And dar'st thou not call him so?

The sieve would reveal,
If you were a thief or not?
(He runs to the SHE-MONKEY and makes her look through it.)
Look through the sieve!
Do you recognize the thief,
And do you dare not call him that?

MEPHISTOPHELES (approaching the fire)

MEPHISTOPHELES (moving closer to the fire)

And then this pot?

What about this pot?

THE MONKEYS

The half-witted sot!
He knows not the pot!
He knows not the kettle!

The clueless drunk!
He doesn't know the pot!
He doesn't know the kettle!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Unmannerly beast!
Be civil at least!

Rude creature!
Be polite at least!

THE HE-MONKEY

Take the whisk and sit down in the settle!
(He makes MEPHISTOPHELES sit down.)

Take the whisk and have a seat on the couch!
(He makes MEPHISTOPHELES sit down.)

FAUST

(who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, now approaching, and now retiring from it)

(who all this time has been standing in front of a mirror, now getting closer to it and now stepping back from it)

What do I see? what form, whose charms transcend
The loveliness of earth, is mirror'd here!
O Love, to waft me to her sphere,
To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend!
Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place,
If to approach more near I'm fondly lur'd,
Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur'd
Model of beauty both in form and face!
Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare?
In this recumbent form, supremely fair,
The essence must I see of heavenly grace?
Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?

What do I see? What shape, whose beauty surpasses
The loveliness of the earth, is reflected here!
Oh Love, carry me to her realm,
Loan me the quickest of your wings!
Alas! If I don't stay rooted to this spot,
If I'm tempted to draw closer,
Her image fades, shrouded in mist
A model of beauty in both form and face!
Is it possible? Does a woman have such rare charms?
In this reclining form, utterly exquisite,
Do I witness the essence of heavenly grace?
Can anything so exquisite be found on earth?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The six days' labour of a god, my friend,
Who doth himself cry bravo, at the end,
By something clever doubtless should be crown'd.
For this time gaze your fill, and when you please
Just such a prize for you I can provide;
How blest is he to whom kind fate decrees,
To take her to his home, a lovely bride!

The six days' work of a god, my friend,
Who cheers himself on at the end,
Should definitely be rewarded with something clever.
For now, take a good look, and whenever you want,
I can provide just such a prize for you;
How lucky is the one whom fate smiles upon,
To bring her home as a beautiful bride!

(FAUST continues to gaze into the mirror. MEPHISTOPHELES stretching himself on the settle and playing with the whisk, continues to speak.)

(FAUST keeps looking into the mirror. MEPHISTOPHELES stretches out on the bench and plays with the whisk while continuing to talk.)

Here sit I, like a king upon his throne;
My sceptre this;—the crown I want alone.

Here I sit, like a king on his throne;
This is my scepter; I just lack the crown.

THE MONKEYS

(who have hitherto been making all sorts of strange gestures, bring MEPHISTOPHELES a crown, with loud cries)

(who have been making all sorts of weird gestures, bring MEPHISTOPHELES a crown, shouting loudly)

Oh, be so good,
With Sweat and with blood
The crown to lime!

Oh, be so kind,
With sweat and with blood
The crown to dust!

(They handle the crown awkwardly and break it in two pieces, with which they skip about.)

(They awkwardly handle the crown and break it into two pieces, with which they hop around.)

'Twas fate's decree!
We speak and see!
We hear and rhyme.

It was fate's decision!
We talk and observe!
We listen and create rhymes.

FAUST (before the mirror)

FAUST (in front of the mirror)

Woe's me! well-nigh distraught I feel!

Woe is me! I feel almost completely overwhelmed!

MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to the beasts)

MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing at the beasts)

And even my own head almost begins to reel.

And even my own head almost starts to spin.

THE MONKEYS

If good luck attend,
If fitly things blend,
Our jargon with thought
And with reason is fraught!

If good luck is on our side,
If everything comes together just right,
Our words are full of meaning
And are backed by reason!

FAUST (as above)

FAUST (as mentioned above)

A flame is kindled in my breast!
Let us begone! nor linger here!

A fire is lit in my heart!
Let's get going! There's no time to stay here!

MEPHISTOPT'IELES (in the same position)

MEPHISTOPHELES (in the same position)

It now at least must be confessed,
That poets sometimes are sincere.

It must now be acknowledged,
That poets can sometimes be genuine.

(The caldron begins to boil over; a great flame arises, which streams up the chimney. The WITCH comes down the chimney with horrible cries.)

(The cauldron starts to bubble over; a huge flame shoots up the chimney. The WITCH comes down the chimney with terrifying screams.)

THE WITCH

Ough! ough! ough! ough!
Accursed brute! accursed SOW!
The caldron dost neglect, for shame!
Accursed brute to scorch the dame!

Ough! ough! ough! ough!
Cursed beast! cursed pig!
The pot is burning, what a shame!
Cursed beast for burning the lady!

(Perceiving FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES)

(Seeing FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES)

Whom have we here?
Who's sneaking here?
Whence are ye come?
With what desire?
The plague of fire
Your bones consume!

Who do we have here?
Who's sneaking around?
Where did you come from?
What do you want?
The fire's curse
Will consume your bones!

(She dips the skimming-ladle into the caldron and throws flames at FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and the MONKEYS. The MONKEYS whimper.)

(She dips the skimming ladle into the cauldron and throws flames at FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and the MONKEYS. The MONKEYS whimper.)

MEPHISTOPHELES (twirling the whisk which he holds in his hand, and striking among the glasses and pots)

MEPHISTOPHELES (twirling the whisk in his hand and hitting the glasses and pots)

Dash! Smash!
There lies the glass!
There lies the slime!
'Tis but a jest;
I but keep time,
Thou hellish pest,
To thine own chime!

Dash! Smash!
There’s the glass!
There’s the slime!
It’s just a joke;
I’m just keeping time,
You hellish pest,
To your own rhythm!

(While the WITCH steps back in rage aind astonishment.)

(While the WITCH steps back in anger and disbelief.)

To fable-books it now doth appertain;
But people from the change have nothing won.
Rid of the evil one, the evil ones remain.
Lord Baron call thou me, so is the matter good;
Of other cavaliers the mien I wear.
Dost make no question of my gentle blood;
See here, this is the scutcheon that I bear!
(He makes an unseemly gesture.)

To storybooks it now belongs;
But people gain nothing from the change.
Free from the wicked one, the wicked still remain.
Call me Lord Baron, that’s a good thing;
I carry myself like other knights.
Don’t question my noble blood;
Look here, this is my coat of arms!
(He makes an inappropriate gesture.)

THE WITCH (laughing immoderately)

THE WITCH (laughing uncontrollably)

Ha! Ha Just like yourself! You are, I ween,
The same mad wag that you have ever been!

Ha! Ha Just like you! You are, I think,
The same crazy joker that you've always been!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

My friend, learn this to understand, I pray!
To deal with witches this is still the way.

My friend, understand this, please!
This is still the way to deal with witches.

THE WITCH

You need to know this:
Make ten from one,
Skip two, then
Square three,
And you'll be rich.
Forget about four!
From five and six,
The witch says,
Make seven and eight.
Then everything's fine!
And nine is one,
And ten is none,
This is the witch's one-time formula!

FAUST

The hag doth as in fever rave.

The witch raves like she's burning up with fever.

MEPHISTOPHELES

To these will follow many a stave.
I know it well, so rings the book throughout;
Much time I've lost in puzzling o'er its pages,
For downright paradox, no doubt,
A mystery remains alike to fools and sages.
Ancient the art and modern too, my friend.
'Tis still the fashion as it used to be,
Error instead of truth abroad to send
By means of three and one, and one and three.
'Tis ever taught and babbled in the schools.
Who'd take the trouble to dispute with fools?
When words men hear, in sooth, they usually believe.
That there must needs therein be something to conceive.

To these will follow many a verse.
I know it well, the book rings out;
I've wasted a lot of time trying to figure out its pages,
Because it's a real paradox, no doubt,
A mystery that puzzles both fools and wise people.
The art is ancient and modern too, my friend.
It’s still in style like it used to be,
Spreading error instead of truth
Through three and one, and one and three.
It’s always taught and talked about in schools.
Who would bother to argue with fools?
When people hear words, honestly, they usually believe.
They think there must be something to understand in them.

THE WITCH (continues)
The lofty power
Of wisdom's dower,
From all the world conceal'd!
Who thinketh not,
To him I wot,
Unsought it is reveal'd.

Now forth at once! thou dar'st not rest.

Now go at once! You can't rest.

WITCH

And much, sir, may the liquor profit you!

And hopefully, sir, the drink does you good!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to the WITCH)

And if to pleasure thee I aught can do,
Pray on Walpurgis mention thy request.

And if there's anything I can do to please you,
Please mention your request during Walpurgis.

WITCH

I would do anything to know,
Who that gentleman over there might be!
He had a confident vibe, I bet,
And he was surely someone important:
That was clear from what was on his brow—
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so bold.
(Exit.)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Come in! tread softly! be discreet!

Come in! Walk quietly! Be careful!

FAUST (after a pause)

FAUST (after a moment)

Begone and leave me, I entreat!

Begone and leave me, I ask!

MEPHISTOPHELES (looking round)

MEPHISTOPHELES (glancing around)

Not every maiden is so neat.

Not every girl is that tidy.

FAUST (gazing round)

FAUST (looking around)

Welcome sweet twilight, calm and blest,
That in this hallow'd precinct reigns!
Fond yearning love, inspire my breast,
Feeding on hope's sweet dew thy blissful pains!
What stillness here environs me!
Content and order brood around.
What fulness in this poverty!
In this small cell what bliss profound!
(He throws himself on the leather arm-chair beside
the bed.)

Welcome, gentle twilight, peaceful and blessed,
That in this sacred place rules!
Tender, longing love, fill my heart,
Sustained by hope's sweet dew and your joyful struggles!
What quiet surrounds me here!
Satisfaction and harmony linger all around.
What completeness in this simplicity!
In this small room, what deep happiness!
(He throws himself on the leather armchair next to
the bed.)

Receive me thou, who hast in thine embrace,
Welcom'd in joy and grief the ages flown!
How oft the children of a by-gone race
Have cluster'd round this patriarchal throne!
Haply she, also, whom I hold so dear,
For Christmas gift, with grateful joy possess'd,
Hath with the full round cheek of childhood, here,
Her grandsire's wither'd hand devoutly press'd.
Maiden! I feel thy spirit haunt the place,
Breathing of order and abounding grace.
As with a mother's voice it prompteth thee,
The pure white cover o'er the board to spread,
To strew the crisping sand beneath thy tread.
Dear hand! so godlike in its ministry!
The hut becomes a paradise through thee!
And here
(He raises the bed-curtain.)
How thrills my pulse with strange delight!
Here could I linger hours untold;
Thou, Nature, didst in vision bright,
The embryo angel here unfold.
Here lay the child, her bosom warm
With life; while steeped in slumber's dew,
To perfect grace, her godlike form,
With pure and hallow'd weavings grew!

Receive me, you who have embraced,
Welcomed in joy and sorrow the ages gone by!
How often the children of a bygone era
Have gathered around this ancestral throne!
Maybe she, too, whom I hold so dear,
For a Christmas gift, filled with grateful joy,
Has, with the rosy cheek of childhood, here,
Devoutly pressed her grandsire's withered hand.
Girl! I feel your spirit in this place,
Bringing order and overflowing grace.
As with a mother's voice, it encourages you,
To spread the pure white cloth over the table,
To sprinkle the crisp sand beneath your steps.
Dear hand! so divine in what you do!
The hut transforms into a paradise through you!
And here
(He raises the bed-curtain.)
How my heart races with strange delight!
Here I could stay for countless hours;
You, Nature, revealed in bright vision,
The future angel here unfolded.
Here lay the child, her chest warm
With life; while steeped in the dew of sleep,
To perfect grace, her godlike form,
With pure and sacred weavings grew!

And thou! ah here what seekest thou?
How quails mine inmost being now!
What wouldst thou here? what makes thy heart so sore?
Unhappy Faust! I know thee now no more.

And you! Ah, what are you looking for?
How my innermost being trembles now!
What do you want here? What makes your heart so heavy?
Unhappy Faust! I don't recognize you anymore.

Do I a magic atmosphere inhale?
Erewhile, my passion would not brook delay!
Now in a pure love-dream I melt away.
Are we the sport of every passing gale?

Do I breathe in a magical atmosphere?
In the past, my passion couldn't stand to wait!
Now, I dissolve in a pure love dream.
Are we just at the mercy of every passing breeze?

MARGARET (with a lamp)
It's so stuffy and humid in here now,
(She opens the window.)
But outside, it's not that warm.
I feel so weird, I can't explain why—
I really wish my mom would come home.
There's this shiver running through me—
I'm just a silly, timid girl!
(While getting undressed, she starts to sing.)

There was a king in Thule,
True even to the grave;
To whom his dying mistress
A golden beaker gave.

There was a king in Thule,
Faithful even to death;
To whom his dying love
Gave a golden cup.

At every feast he drained it,
Naught was to him so dear,
And often as he drained it,
Gush'd from his eyes the tear.

At every feast, he drank it all,
Nothing meant more to him,
And often as he drank it,
Tears flowed from his eyes.

When death came, unrepining
His cities o'er he told;
All to his heir resigning,
Except his cup of gold.

When death arrived, uncomplaining
He revealed his cities;
Giving everything to his heir,
Except for his cup of gold.

With many a knightly vassal
At a royal feast sat he,
In yon proud ball ancestral,
In his castle o'er the sea.

With many a noble servant
At a royal banquet sat he,
In that grand ancestral hall,
In his castle by the sea.

Up stood the jovial monarch,
And quaff'd his last life's glow,
Then hurled the hallow'd goblet
Into the flood below.

Up stood the cheerful king,
And drank his final toast,
Then threw the cherished cup
Into the water below.

He saw it splashing, drinking,
And plunging hi the sea;
His eyes meanwhile were sinking,
And never again drank he.
(She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives the
casket.)

He saw it splashing, drinking,
And diving in the sea;
His eyes were getting heavier,
And he never drank again.
(She opens the cabinet to put away her clothes and notices the
box.)

How comes this lovely casket here? The press
I locked, of that I'm confident.
'Tis very wonderful! What's in it I can't guess;
Perhaps 'twas brought by some one in distress.
And left in pledge for loan my mother lent.
Here by a ribbon hangs a little key!
I have a mind to open it and see!
Heavens! only look! what have we here!
In all my days ne'er saw I such a sight!
Jewels! which any noble dame might wear,
For some high pageant richly dight!
This chain—how would it look on me!
These splendid gems, whose may they be?
(She puts them on and steps before the glass.)

How did this beautiful box get here? The drawer
I locked, I’m sure of that.
It’s really amazing! I have no idea what’s inside;
Maybe someone in trouble brought it here.
And left it as a guarantee for the loan my mother gave.
Hanging by a ribbon is a little key!
I think I’ll open it and take a look!
Wow! Just look! What do we have here!
In all my life, I’ve never seen anything like this!
Jewels! Any noble lady would want to wear these,
For some grand event that’s lavishly decorated!
This necklace—how would it look on me?
These gorgeous gems, who do they belong to?
(She puts them on and steps in front of the mirror.)

With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he swept
As they were mushrooms; and the casket,
Without one word of thanks, he kept,
As if of nuts it were a basket.
Promised reward in heaven, then forth he hied—
And greatly they were edified.

With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he took
As if they were just mushrooms; and the box,
Without a single word of thanks, he kept,
As if it were a basket of nuts.
Promised reward in heaven, then off he went—
And they were greatly enlightened.

Your doting love-sick fool, with ease,
Merely his lady-love to please,
Sun, moon, and stars in sport would puff away.
(Exit.)

Your affectionate, lovesick fool, without effort,
Just to please his beloved,
The sun, moon, and stars would playfully blow away.
(Exit.)

THE NEIGHBOUR'S HOUSE
MARTHA (alone)

THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
MARTHA (alone)

God pardon my dear husband, he
Doth not in truth act well by me!
Forth in the world abroad to roam,
And leave me on the straw at home.
And yet his will I ne'er did thwart,
God knows, I lov'd him from my heart.
(She weeps.)

God forgive my dear husband, he
Does not truly treat me well!
He goes out into the world to wander,
And leaves me here alone at home.
And yet I never opposed his wishes,
God knows, I loved him with all my heart.
(She weeps.)

Perchance he's dead!—oh wretched state!—
Had I but a certificate!

Perchance he's dead!—oh what a terrible situation!—
If only I had a certificate!

(MARGARET comes)

(MARGARET arrives)

MARGARET

Dame Martha!

Lady Martha!

MARTHA

Gretchen?

MARGARET

Only think!
My knees beneath me well-nigh sink!
Within my press I've found to-day,
Another case, of ebony.
And things—magnificent they are,
More costly than the first, by far.

Just imagine!
My knees are almost giving way!
Today, I’ve found in my collection,
Another piece, made of ebony.
And the things—oh, they’re amazing,
Much more expensive than the first, by far.

MARTHA

You must not name it to your mother!
It would to shrift, just like the other.

You can't tell your mom about it!
It would be just like the other time.

MARGARET

Nay look at them! now only see!

Nay, look at them! Now just see!

MARTHA (dresses her up)

MARTHA (dresses her)

Thou happy creature!

You happy creature!

MARGARET

Woe is me!
Them in the street I cannot wear,
Or in the church, or any where.

Woe is me!
I can't wear them in the street,
Or in church, or anywhere.

MARTHA

Come often over here to me,
The gems put on quite privately;
And then before the mirror walk an hour or so,
Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
Then suitable occasions we must seize,
As at a feast, to show them by degrees:
A chain at first, pearl ear-drops then,—your mother
Won't see them, or we'll coin some tale or other.

Come here to me often,
The jewels are kept under wraps;
And then we can stroll in front of the mirror for an hour or so,
That way we’ll enjoy ourselves too.
We should take our chances,
Like at a party, to reveal them slowly:
A necklace first, pearl earrings next—your mom
Won't notice, or we can come up with some story.

MARGARET

But, who, I wonder, could the caskets bring? I fear there's something wrong about the thing! (a knock,)

But I wonder, who could the caskets bring? I feel like something’s not right about this! (a knock,)

MARTHA (peering through the blind)

MARTHA (looking through the blinds)

'Tis a strange gentleman, I see.
Come in!

It's a strange man, I see.
Come in!

(MEPHISTOPHELES enters)

MEPHISTOPHELES

I've ventur'd to intrude to-day.
Ladies, excuse the liberty, I pray.
(He steps back respectfully before MARGARET.)

I've taken the liberty to come by today.
Ladies, please excuse my boldness.
(He steps back respectfully before MARGARET.)

After dame Martha Schwerdtlein I inquire!

After Dame Martha Schwerdtlein, I ask!

MARTHA

'Tis I. Pray what have you to say to me?

It's me. What do you want to say to me?

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside to her)

MEPHISTOPHELES (to her, aside)

I know you now,—and therefore will retire;
At present you've distinguished company.
Pardon the freedom, Madam, with your leave,
I will make free to call again at eve.

If not a spouse, a gallant let it be.
Among heaven's choicest gifts, I place,
So sweet a darling to embrace.

If not a partner, then a brave one it shall be.
Among life's greatest blessings, I hold,
Such a sweet love to cherish and hold.

MARGARET

MEPHISTOPHELES

Usage or not, it happens so.

Usage or not, it happens that way.

MARTHA

Go on, I pray!

Go ahead, please!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I stood by his bedside. Something less foul it was than dung;
'Twas straw half rotten; yet, he as a Christian died.
And sorely hath remorse his conscience wrung.
"Wretch that I was," quoth he, with parting breath,
"So to forsake my business and my wife!
Ah! the remembrance is my death,
Could I but have her pardon in this life! "—

I stood by his bedside. It was something less disgusting than dung;
It was half-rotten straw; yet, he died a Christian.
And deep regret had tortured his conscience.
"Wretch that I was," he said with his last breath,
"To abandon my work and my wife!
Ah! The memory is killing me,
If only I could have her forgiveness in this life!"—

MARTHA (weeping)

MARTHA (crying)

The gentleman is surely pleas'd to jest!

The gentleman is surely pleased to joke!

MEPHISTOPIIELES (aside)

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)

Now to be off in time, were best!
She'd make the very devil marry her.
(To MARGARET.)

Now it's best to leave on time!
She could convince anyone to marry her.
(To MARGARET.)

How fares it with your heart?

How's your heart?

MARGARET

How mean you, Sir?

How rude you are, Sir?

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)

The garden, then, behind my house, we'll name,
There we'll await you both this evening.

The garden behind my house, let's call it,
We'll wait for both of you there this evening.

A STREET

Ah, if only one would look a bit deeper!
Tomorrow, in all honesty, you
Poor Gretchen will be fooled, and promise
Your heart's true love, like a typical lover.

O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!

O dear one, believe me, what often is seen as common sense
Is frequently just self-importance and ignorance!

I'm sorry I'm so blind!
But this I know—that you are very kind.
(They pass on.)

I'm sorry I'm so clueless!
But I do know one thing—that you are really nice.
(They move on.)

FAUST

Me, little angel, didst thou recognise,
When in the garden first I came?

Me, little angel, did you recognize,
When I first came to the garden?

MARGARET
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.

MARGARET
Did you not see it? I looked away.

Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!

Sweet angel, with your face of heavenly bliss!

MARGARET (continues)

He loves me—not—he loves me—not—
(Plucking off the last leaf with fond joy.)

He loves me—not—he loves me—not—
(Plucking off the last leaf with happy joy.)

He loves me!

FAUST

Yes!
And this flower-language, darling, let it be,
A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
(He seizes both her hands.)

Yes!
And this flower language, darling, let it be,
A heavenly oracle! He loves you!
Do you know the meaning of, He loves you?
(He takes both her hands.)

MARGARET

I tremble so!

I'm so nervous!

FAUST

Nay! Do not tremble, love!
Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
Feelings, all power of speech above;
To give oneself up wholly and to feel
A joy that must eternal prove!
Eternal!—Yes, its end would be despair.
No end!—It cannot end!
(MARGARET presses his hand, extricates herself,
and runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and then follows
her.)

FAUST (alone)

FAUST (solo)

Spirit sublime! Thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
For which I prayed! Not vainly hast thou turn'd
To me thy countenance in flaming fire:
Gayest me glorious nature for my realm,
And also power to feel her and enjoy;
Not merely with a cold and wondering glance,
Thou dost permit me in her depths profound,
As in the bosom of a friend to gaze.
Before me thou dost lead her living tribes,
And dost in silent grove, in air and stream
Teach me to know my kindred. And when roars
The howling storm-blast through the groaning wood,
Wrenching the giant pine, which in its fall
Crashing sweeps down its neighbour trunks and boughs,
While hollow thunder from the hill resounds;
Then thou dost lead me to some shelter'd cave,
Dost there reveal me to myself, and show
Of my own bosom the mysterious depths.
And when with soothing beam, the moon's pale orb
Full in my view climbs up the pathless sky,
From crag and dewy grove, the silvery forms
Of by-gone ages hover, and assuage
The joy austere of contemplative thought.

Sublime Spirit! You gave me, you gave me everything
I asked for! You didn't turn away from me
With your fiery gaze:
You gifted me the glorious nature of my domain,
And also the ability to feel and enjoy it;
Not just with a cold and curious look,
You let me explore her profound depths,
As if I were looking into the heart of a friend.
Before me, you lead her living beings,
And in silent groves, in air and water,
You teach me to recognize my kin. And when the storm
Howls through the groaning woods,
Tearing down the giant pine, which crashes
As it falls, sweeping away its neighbor trunks and branches,
While hollow thunder echoes from the hillside;
Then you guide me to a sheltered cave,
Where you reveal me to myself and show
The mysterious depths of my own heart.
And when the moon's pale orb,
With a soothing glow, rises in my line of sight,
From cliffs and dewy groves, the silvery shapes
Of ages past appear and soothe
The intense joy of contemplative thought.

I don't need to explain how—to close!

FAUST

Fie on you!

Shame on you!

MEPHISTOPHELES

This displeases you? "For shame!"
You are forsooth entitled to exclaim;
We to chaste ears it seems must not pronounce
What, nathless, the chaste heart cannot renounce.
Well, to be brief, the joy as fit occasions rise,
I grudge you not, of specious lies.
But long this mood thou'lt not retain.
Already thou'rt again outworn,
And should this last, thou wilt be torn
By frenzy or remorse and pain.
Enough of this! Thy true love dwells apart,
And all to her seems flat and tame;
Alone thine image fills her heart,
She loves thee with an all-devouring flame.
First came thy passion with o'erpowering rush,
Like mountain torrent, swollen by the melted snow;
Pull in her heart didst pour the sudden gush,
Now has thy brookiet ceased to flow.
Instead of sitting throned midst forests wild,
It would become so great a lord
To comfort the enamour'd child,
And the young monkey for her love reward.
To her the hours seem miserably long;
She from the window sees the clouds float by
As o'er the lofty city-walls they fly,
"If I a birdie were!" so runs her song,
Half through the night and all day long.
Cheerful sometimes, more oft at heart full sore;
Fairly outwept seem now her tears,
Anon she tranquil is, or so appears,
And love-sick evermore.

This bothers you? "For shame!"
You're certainly allowed to say that;
To pure ears it seems we shouldn’t say
What, however, the pure heart can’t let go.
Well, to put it simply, the joy that comes with the right moments,
I don’t resent you for those falsehoods.
But you won’t stay in this mood for long.
You’re already worn out again,
And if this lasts, you’ll be torn
By madness or regret and pain.
Enough of this! Your true love is far away,
And everything else seems dull and boring;
Only your image fills her heart,
She loves you with an all-consuming passion.
First, your desire came like a powerful rush,
Like a mountain stream, swollen by the melting snow;
You poured into her heart that sudden flow,
Now your stream has stopped flowing.
Instead of sitting crowned among wild forests,
It would be fitting for such a great lord
To comfort the lovesick child,
And for the young girl to receive love in return.
To her, the hours feel dreadfully long;
She watches from the window as the clouds float by
As they drift over the towering city walls,
"If I were a little bird!" goes her song,
Half through the night and all day long.
Sometimes cheerful, but more often feeling sore at heart;
Her tears seem to flow freely now,
At times she appears calm, or so it seems,
And she’s love-sick evermore.

FAUST

Snake! Serpent vile!

Snake! Evil serpent!

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)

MEPHISTOPHELES (to himself)

Good! If I catch thee with my guile!

Good! If I catch you with my trickery!

FAUST

Vile reprobate! go get thee hence;
Forbear the lovely girl to name!
Nor in my half-distracted sense,
Kindle anew the smouldering flame!

Wretched scoundrel! Get out of here;
Don’t mention the beautiful girl!
And don’t reignite the dying spark
In my already troubled mind!

MEPHISTOPHELES

What wouldest thou! She thinks you've taken flight;
It seems, she's partly in the right.

What do you want? She thinks you've run away;
It seems she's partly right.

MARGARET (alone at her spinning wheel)

My peace is gone,
My heart is Sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore!

My peace is lost,
My heart is aching,
I can't find it anymore,
And never will!

Where him I have not,
Is the grave; and all
The world to me
Is turned to gall.

Where he is not,
Is the grave; and all
The world to me
Has become bitter.

My wilder'd brain
Is overwrought;
My feeble senses
Are distraught.

My overwhelmed mind
Is stressed out;
My weak senses
Are in chaos.

My peace is gone,
My heart is sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore!

My peace is gone,
My heart is aching,
I can’t find it anywhere,
And never will again!

For him from the window
I gaze, at home;
For him and him only
Abroad I roam.

For him from the window
I look out, at home;
For him and him alone
I wander far.

His lofty step,
His bearing high,
The smile of his lip,
The power of his eye,

His confident stride,
His proud posture,
The smile on his lips,
The intensity of his gaze,

His witching words,
Their tones of bliss,
His hand's fond pressure,
And ah—his kiss!

His enchanting words,
Their joyful tones,
The gentle pressure of his hand,
And oh—his kiss!

My peace is gone,
My heart is sore,
I find it never,
And nevermore.

My peace is lost,
My heart hurts,
I can never find it,
And never will again.

My bosom aches
To feel him near;
Ah, could I clasp
And fold him here!

My heart aches
To have him close;
Oh, if only I could
Hold him here!

Kiss him and kiss him
Again would I,
And on his kisses
I fain would die.

Kiss him and kiss him
I would again,
And on his kisses
I would gladly die.

MARTHA'S GARDEN

MARGARET and FAUST

Then thou dost not believe?

So you don’t believe?

FAUST

Should I suggest something different, my sweet love?

MARGARET

I know not, dearest, when thy face I see,
What doth my spirit to thy will constrain;
Already I have done so much for thee,
That scarcely more to do doth now remain.
(Exit,)

I don't know, my dear, when I will see your face,
What makes my spirit yield to your will;
I've already done so much for you,
That there's hardly anything left to do now.
(Exit,)

MEPHISTOPHELES (enters)

Alas!

Unfortunately!

BESSY

She's rightly served, in sooth,
How long she hung upon the youth!
What promenades, what jaunts there were,
To dancing booth and village fair!
The first she everywhere must shine,
He always treating her to pastry and to wine.
Of her good looks she was so vain,
So shameless too, that to retain
His presents, she did not disdain;
Sweet words and kisses came anon—
And then the virgin flower was gone.

She's truly been treated well,
How long she lingered on the guy!
What strolls, what outings they had,
To dance halls and local fairs!
In every place she had to sparkle,
He always spoiled her with treats and drinks.
She was so proud of her looks,
So bold too, that to keep
His gifts, she didn’t hesitate;
Sweet words and kisses came soon—
And then she lost her innocence.

MARGARET

Poor thing!

BESSY

Forsooth dost pity her?
At night, when at our wheels we sat,
Abroad our mothers ne'er would let us stir.
Then with her lover she must chat,
Or on the bench or in the dusky walk,
Thinking the hours too brief for their Sweet talk;
Her proud head she will have to bow,
And in white sheet do penance now!

Do you really feel sorry for her?
At night, when we sat at our spinning wheels,
Our mothers never let us go out.
Then she has to talk with her boyfriend,
Either on the bench or in the dimly lit path,
Thinking the hours are too short for their sweet conversation;
She'll have to lower her proud head,
And now do penance in a white sheet!

MARGARET

But he will surely marry her?

But he will definitely 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.

Not him!
He won't be that foolish! A brave guy
Like him can travel over land and sea,
Plus, he's already gone.

MARGARET
That is not fair!

MARGARET
That's 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.)

If she ends up with him, that would be almost as bad!
The boys would rip her myrtle wreath apart;
And then we girls would annoy her too,
Because we’d scatter chopped straw in front of her door!
(Exit.)

MARGARET (walking towards home)

MARGARET (walking 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!

How strongly I used to criticize,
When a poor girl went off track;
No words were enough for me to voice,
My thoughts on other people's wrongs!
As dark as it was, I painted it darker,
And tried to make it even worse.
And I felt so righteous—
Now my own wrongs come to light!
But oh!—what drove me to stray,
God knows, it was so sweet, so precious!

ZWINGER

Enclosure 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.)

Enclosure between the City-wall and the Gate. (In the niche of the wall, there's a devotional image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower pots in front of it.)

MARGARET (putting fresh flowers in the pots)

MARGARET (placing 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!

Ah, rich in sorrow, you,
Lower your motherly brow,
And look with a compassionate eye at my misery!
The sword in your pierced heart,
You feel it with bitter pain,
Gazing up at your Son's death struggle.
To the dear God above,
Your pitiful sigh rises,
Pleading for his and your deep sorrow.
Ah, who can know
The tormenting pain,
The agony that racks me to the bone?
How my poor heart, without relief,
Trembles and throbs, yearning in grief
You know, you alone!
Ah, wherever I go,
With woe, with woe, with woe,
My aching heart is breaking!
When I creep all alone,
I weep, I weep, I weep,
Alas! my heart is breaking!
The flower pots at my window
Were wet with my tears,
While I picked these blossoms,
At dawn to adorn your shrine!
When early in my room
The bright morning shone,
I sat on my bed,
My heart torn with anguish.
Help! Deliver me from disgrace and death!
Ah! rich in sorrow, you,
Lower your motherly brow,
And look with a compassionate eye at my misery!

NIGHT. STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S DOOR

VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET'S brother)

VALENTINE (a soldier, MARGARET’s brother)

When seated 'mong the jovial crowd,
Where merry comrades boasting loud
Each named with pride his favourite lass,
And in her honour 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.

When I sat among the cheerful crowd,
Where happy friends shouted out loud,
Each proudly named his favorite girl,
And in her honor raised his swirl;
I’d lean on my elbows, take it in,
Calmly observing the whole scene;
I wouldn’t speak until I’d heard
Each cocky guy say his word.
Then, smiling, I’d stroke my beard,
While, with a full glass, I appeared;
"To each their own!—but for me, I ask,
Where in the country can you find,
A girl, as lovely as my dear Gretchen,
Who can compare with my sister’s perfection?"
Cling! Clang! rang out the joyful sound!
Cheers of agreement spread around;
She’s the pride of her kind!—some chimed in;
Then the loud boastful guys all fell dim.

And now I—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!

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.)'

Some free pleasures to enjoy,
Should definitely not annoy you.
While the sky is bright with stars,
I’ll sing a work of art:
A meaningful song will delight her ear,
More likely to capture 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.

Kathrina says,
Why do you linger
At your lover's door
At the break of day?
Girl, be careful,
Don't go in there,
Or you might leave
A girl no 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!

Girl, pay attention!
Listen carefully to my advice!
Is it done, the task?
Good night, you unfortunate one!
Disregard the deceiver's lies, His tricks ignore,
And don't give up your treasure,
Without the wedding 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!

VALENTINE (steps forward)
Who are you trying to attract here? Let me tell you!
Damn rat-catchers, I’ll put an end to your tunes!
First, I’ll send the guitar to hell!
Then to hell with the singer as well!

MEPHISTOPHELES

The poor guitar! 'tis done for now.

The poor guitar! It's finished now.

VALENTINE

Your skull shall follow next, I trow!

Your skull will be next, I guess!

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 I do you thrust away!

Doctor, hold on! Gather your strength!
Be ready and follow my instructions.
Get your weapon out, stay close, please,
I'll block while you push away!

VALENTINE

Then parry that!

Then dodge that!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why not?

VALENTINE

That too!

Same here!

MEPHISTOPHELES

With ease!

No problem!

VALENTINE

The devil fights for you!
Why how is this? my hand's already lamed!

The devil fights for you!
How is that possible? My hand's already crippled!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

Thrust home!

Thrust it in!

VALENTINE (falls)

VALENTINE (drops)

Alas!

Unfortunately!

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.

There! Now the clumsy guy is under control!
But quickly, let’s go! We need to leave right away;
A scream for help rings out;
I know how to handle the police,
But with the blood issue, it’s a different story.

MARTHA (at the window)

MARTHA (by the window)

Without! without!

No! No!

MARGARET (at the window)

MARGARET (by the window)

Quick, bring a light!

Quick, bring a flashlight!

MARTHA (as above)

MARTHA (as before)

They rail and scuffle, scream and fight!

They shout and struggle, scream and brawl!

PEOPLE

One lieth here already dead!

One lies here already dead!

MARTHA (coming out)

MARTHA (walking out)

Where are the murderers? are they fled?

Where are the murderers? Have they escaped?

MARGARET (coming out)

MARGARET (emerging)

Who lieth here?

Who lies here?

PEOPLE

Thy mother's son.

Your mother's son.

MARGARET

Almighty God! I am undone!

Oh my God! I'm finished!

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!

VALENTINE
I'm dying—it's a quick story,
And even quicker to finish.
Why, women, are you crying and mourning?
Listen to my last words! (Everyone gathers around him.)
My Gretchen, look! You're still so young,
You're not careful enough, I think,
You handle your affairs poorly;
Let this be said in trust:
Since you’re walking the path of shame,
Walk it with good intentions!

MARGARET

My brother! God! what can this mean?

My brother! Oh my God! What could 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.

Abstain,
And don't disrespect God's name!
What's done is done and in the past!
Things will take their course eventually;
If you start with one in secret,
Others will soon follow him;
And when a dozen know you,
You'll be common to everyone in town.
When infamy is just born,
She's secretly brought to light,
And the mysterious veil of night
Is drawn over head and ears;
People would like to get rid of her;
But soon, fully grown, she gets bold,
And though she doesn’t look any better,
With a shameless front, she mocks the day:
The more disgusting to look at,
The more she seeks 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!

The time is coming when all honest people will turn their backs on you, And avoid your hated presence, Just like they’d avoid a corpse lying in the street. Your heart will sink into total despair When they look you in the face! You won’t wear a golden chain anymore! Nor will you take your place near the altar in church! Dressed simply in a pretty lace collar, You won’t dance joyfully anymore! You’ll hide away in dark corners, Where vile beggars and cripples lurk, And even if God forgives your crime, On earth, you’ll live as a cursed thing!

MARTHA

Your parting soul to God commend!
Your dying breath in slander will you spend?

Your departing soul, entrust it to God!
Will you waste your last breath on lies?

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.

Could I just reach your withered body,
You miserable old woman, lacking in shame!
I might hope to gain a full measure
Of forgiveness for every sin.

MARGARET

VALENTINE

I tell thee, from vain tears abstain!
'Twas thy dishonour 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.)

I tell you, stop crying for nothing!
It was your dishonor that hurt me,
Your downfall delivered the final blow.
Now I leave this deathly sleep
To God, a loyal and brave soldier.
(dies.)

CATHEDRAL

Service, Organ, and Anthem

Wouldst hide thee? sin and shame
Remain not hidden!
Air! light!
Woe's thee!

Would you hide? Sin and shame
Don't stay hidden!
Air! Light!
Woe to you!

CHORUS

Ho! ho!
So guys, truly, he thinks he can copy!
Now, for the devil's sake, just be honest this time!
Or I’ll end your unsteady life right now.

IGNIS FAPUUS

That you are master here it obvious quite;
To do your will, I'll cordially essay;
Only reflect! The hill is magic-mad to-night;
And if to show the path you choose a meteor's light,
You must not wonder should we go astray.

That you're in charge here is pretty clear;
I'll gladly try to do what you want;
Just think about it! The hill is crazy with magic tonight;
And if you decide to light the way with a meteor,
Don't be surprised if we end up lost.

FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, IGNIS FATUUS (in alternate song)

Through the dream and magic-sphere
As it seems, we now are speeding;
Honour win, us rightly leading,
That betimes we may appear
In yon wide and desert region!

Through the dream and magic sphere
It seems we’re moving quickly;
Honor wins, guiding us right,
So we can soon show up
In that vast and empty land!

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!

Trees upon trees, a strong army,
Quickly passing us by,
And the cliffs with a humble nod;
Long-nosed rocks, lined up one after another,
How they grunt, and how they exhale!

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.

Through the stones and heather springing,
Brook and brooklet rush below;
Listen to the rustling! Listen to the singing!
Pay attention to love's sad songs;
Voices from those heavenly days—
What we hope for, and what we love!
Like a story from ancient times,
Echo's voice stretches out the chime.

To-whit! To-whoo! 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.

To-whit! To-whoo! It sounds closer;
Plover, owl, and jay show up,
All awake, around, above?
Chubby salamanders too
Peer, long-limbed, through the bushes!
And, like snakes, the roots of trees
Twist themselves from rock and sand,
Stretching many a strange band,
To frighten us, to catch us;
From rough knots full of life,
Polyp-fangs spread wide,
To trap the wanderer! Beneath our feet,
Mice, in their thousands, all colors,
Through the heath and through the moss!
And the fireflies' sparkling swarm,
Bewildering escort, spirals along,
Here and there, across our path.

WITCHES (singing together)

She has graz'd my side,
Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!

She has grazed my side,
Look at the wounds, how deep and how wide!

WITCHES (in chorus)

WITCHES (chanting together)

The way is broad, the way is long;
What mad pursuit! What tumult wild!
Scratches the besom and sticks the prong;
Crush'd is the mother, and stifled the child.

The path is wide, the path is long;
What a crazy chase! What wild chaos!
The broom scratches and the prong gets stuck;
The mother is crushed, and the child is suffocated.

WIZARDS (half chorus)

WIZARDS (half choir)

Like house-encumber'd Snail we creep;
While far ahead the women keep,
For when to the devil's house we speed,
By a thousand steps they take the lead.

Like a snail weighed down by its shell, we move slowly;
While the women stay far ahead,
Because when we rush to the devil's house,
They get there a thousand steps before us.

THE OTHER HALF

Not so, precisely do we view it;——
They with a thousand steps may do it;

Not exactly how we see it;——
They might achieve it with a thousand steps;

But let them hasten as they can,
With one long bound 'tis clear'd by man.

But let them hurry as fast as they can,
With one big leap, it's crossed by a person.

VOICES (above)

Come with us, come with us from Felsensee.

VOICES (from below)

Voices (from below)

Aloft to you we would mount with glee!
We wash, and free from all stain are we,
Yet barren evermore must be!

Up high we would climb with joy!
We clean ourselves, and we're free from all stains,
Yet we must always remain unproductive!

BOTH CHORUSES

The wind is hushed, the stars grow pale,
The pensive moon her light doth veil;
And whirling on, the magic choir
Sputters forth sparks of drizzling fire.

The wind is quiet, the stars dim,
The thoughtful moon covers her light;
And spinning on, the enchanted choir
Spits out sparks of falling fire.

VOICE (from below)

Stay! stay!

Stay!

VOICE (from above)

What voice of woe
Calls from the cavern'd depths below?

What sorrowful voice
Calls from the depths of the cavern below?

VOICE (from below)

Take me with you! Oh take me too!
Three centuries I climb in vain,
And yet can ne'er the summit gain!
To be with my kindred I am fain.

Take me with you! Oh, take me too!
I've been trying to reach the top for three centuries,
And still, I can never get there!
I really want to be with my family.

BOTH CHORUSES

Broom and pitch-fork, goat and prong,
Mounted on these we whirl along;
Who vainly strives to climb to-night,
Is evermore a luckless wight!

Broom and pitchfork, goat and prong,
Riding on these, we spin along;
Whoever foolishly tries to climb tonight,
Is forever just a hopeless fellow!

DEMI-WITCH (below)

DEMI-WITCH

I hobble after, many a day;
Already the others are far away!

I limp along behind, day after day;
The others are already far ahead!

Yet now everything is spiraling out of control,
When we would maintain them on a solid foundation.

AUTHOR

Who, as a rule, a treatise now would care
To read, of even moderate sense?
As for the rising generation, ne'er
Has youth displayed such arrogant pretence.

Adam's first wife. Of her rich locks beware!
That charm in which she's parallel'd by few;
When in its toils a youth she doth ensnare,
He will not soon escape, I promise you.

Adam's first wife. Watch out for her beautiful hair!
That charm is something few can match;
When she traps a young man in her web,
He won't be escaping anytime soon, I promise you.

FAUST

There sit a pair, the old one with the young;
Already they have bravely danced and sprung!

There sit a pair, the old one with the young;
They've already danced and jumped with courage!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Here there is no repose to-day.
Another dance begins; we'll join it, come away!

Here, there's no rest today.
Another dance starts; let's join in, come on!

FAUST (dancing with the young one)

Once a fair vision came to me;
Therein I saw an apple-tree,
Two beauteous apples charmed mine eyes;
I climb'd forthwith to reach the prize.

One day, a clear vision appeared to me;
In it, I saw an apple tree,
Two beautiful apples caught my eye;
I immediately climbed to get the prize.

THE FAIR ONE.

Apples still fondly ye desire,
From paradise it bath been so.
Feelings of joy my breast inspire
That such too in my garden grow.

Apples, how I still love you,
Since paradise, it’s been so.
Joy fills my heart anew
That they too grow in my garden.

MEPHISTOPHELES (with the old one)

MEPHISTOPHELES (with the elder)

Once a weird vision came to me;
Therein I saw a rifted tree.
I had a . . . . .have ready here,
But as it was it pleased me too.

Once a strange vision appeared to me;
In it, I saw a split tree.
I had a . . . . .have ready here,
But as it was, it pleased me too.

THE OLD ONE

I beg most humbly to salute
The gallant with the cloven foot!
Let him a . . . have ready here,
If he a . . . does not fear.

I sincerely greet
The brave one with the split foot!
Let him be . . . prepared here,
If he is . . . not afraid.

PROCTOPHANTASMIST

Accursed mob! How dare ye thus to meet?
Have I not shown and demonstrated too,
That ghosts stand not on ordinary feet?
Yet here ye dance, as other mortals do!

Cursed crowd! How dare you meet like this?
Haven't I shown and proven enough,
That ghosts don't walk on regular feet?
Yet here you dance, just like other people do!

THE FAIR ONE (dancing)

Then at our ball, what doth he here?

Then at our party, what is he doing here?

FAUST (dancing)

Oh! He must everywhere appear.
He must adjudge, when others dance;
If on each step his say's not said,
So is that step as good as never made.
He's most annoyed, so soon as we advance;
If ye would circle in one narrow round,
As he in his old mill, then doubtless he
Your dancing would approve,—especially
If ye forthwith salute him with respect profound!

Oh! He has to be involved everywhere.
He has to judge when others dance;
If his opinion isn't given on every step,
That step might as well not be taken at all.
He gets really upset as soon as we move forward;
If you want to go in one tight circle,
Like he does in his old mill, then surely he
Would approve of your dancing—especially
If you immediately show him deep respect!

PROCTOPHANTASMIST

Still here! what arrogance! unheard of quite!
Vanish; we now have fill'd the world with light!
Laws are unheeded by the devil's host;
Wise as we are, yet Tegel hath its ghost!
How long at this conceit I've swept with all my might,
Lost is the labour: 'tis unheard of quite!

Still here! What arrogance! Completely unheard of!
Vanish; we've now filled the world with light!
Laws are ignored by the devil's crew;
Wise as we are, yet Tegel has its ghost!
How long have I swept at this idea with all my strength,
Lost is the effort: it's totally unheard of!

THE FAIR ONE

Cease here to teaze us any more, I pray.

Cease here to tease us any further, please.

PROCTOPHANTASMIST

Spirits, I plainly to your face declare:
No spiritual control myself will bear,
Since my own spirit can exert no sway.
(The dancing continues.)

Spirits, I'm clearly saying this to you:
I won’t accept any spiritual control,
Since my own spirit has no power here.
(The dancing continues.)

To-night, I see, I shall in naught succeed;
But I'm prepar'd my travels to pursue,
And hope, before my final step indeed,
To triumph over bards and devils too.

Tonight, I realize I won’t succeed at all;
But I’m ready to continue my journey,
And I hope, before I take my final step,
To conquer both poets and demons as well.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now in some puddle will he take his station,
Such is his mode of seeking consolation;
Where leeches, feasting on his rump, will drain
Spirits alike and spirit from his brain.
(To FAUST, who has left the dance.)

Now he’ll settle in some puddle,
That’s his way of looking for comfort;
Where leeches, feasting on his behind, will drain
Both his energy and the creativity from his mind.
(To FAUST, who has left the dance.)

But why the charming damsel leave, I pray,
Who to you in the dance so sweetly sang?

But why did the charming lady leave, I ask,
Who sang so sweetly to you in the dance?

FAUST

Ah, in the very middle of her lay,
Out of her mouth a small red mouse there sprang.

Ah, right in the middle of her lay,
A small red mouse sprang out of her mouth.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Suppose there did! One must not be too nice.
'Twas well it was not grey, let that suffice.
Who 'mid his pleasures for a trifle cares?

Suppose there was! One shouldn’t be too fussy.
It was good that it wasn’t dull, that’s enough.
Who among his joys worries about something trivial?

FAUST

Then saw I—

Then I saw—

MANAGER

Vales, where mists still shift and play,
To ancient hills succeeding,—
These our scenes;—so we, to-day,
May rest, brave sons of Mieding.

Valleys, where mists still move and dance,
To ancient hills following,—
These are our surroundings;—so we, today,
Can rest, brave sons of Mieding.

HERALD

That the marriage golden be,
Must fifty years be ended;
More dear this feast of gold to me,
Contention now suspended.

That the marriage be golden,
It must last fifty years;
This celebration of gold means more to me,
With all arguments now put on hold.

OBERON

Spirits, if present, grace the scene,
And if with me united,
Then gratulate the king and queen,
Their troth thus newly plighted!

Spirits, if they’re here, bless this moment,
And if they’re with me together,
Then celebrate the king and queen,
Their vows now newly promised!

PUCK

Puck draws near and wheels about,
In mazy circles dancing!
Hundreds swell his joyous shout,
Behind him still advancing.

Puck comes closer and spins around,
Dancing in winding circles!
Hundreds lift up his cheerful shout,
Following behind as he moves forward.

ARIEL

Ariel wakes his dainty air,
His lyre celestial stringing.—
Fools he lureth, and the fair,
With his celestial singing.

Ariel awakens his delicate spirit,
Tuning his heavenly lyre.—
He enchants fools and the beautiful,
With his divine singing.

OBERON

Wedded ones, would ye agree,
We court your imitation:
Would ye fondly love as we,
We counsel separation.

Married folks, do you agree,
We invite you to copy us:
If you love each other like we do,
We suggest you take some time apart.

TITANIA

If husband scold and wife retort,
Then bear them far asunder;
Her to the burning south transport,
And him the North Pole under.

If a husband scolds and the wife snaps back,
Then send them both far away;
Take her to the scorching south,
And him to the North Pole to stay.

THE WHOLE ORCHESTRA (fortissimo)

THE ENTIRE ORCHESTRA (loudly)

Flies and midges all unite
With frog and chirping cricket,
Our orchestra throughout the night,
Resounding in the thicket!

Flies and midges all come together
With frogs and chirping crickets,
Our orchestra throughout the night,
Echoing in the underbrush!

(Solo)
Yonder doth the bagpipe come!
Its sack an airy bubble.
Schnick, schnick, schnack, with nasal hum,
Its notes it doth redouble.

(Solo)
Look, here comes the bagpipe!
Its sack is a light bubble.
Schnick, schnick, schnack, with a nasal tone,
Its notes it does repeat.

EMBRYO SPIRIT

Spider's foot and midge's wing,
A toad in form and feature;
Together verses it can string,
Though scarce n living creature.

Spider's foot and midge's wing,
A toad in shape and style;
Together they can create a verse,
Though they're rare in the living world.

A LITTLE PAIR

Tiny step and lofty bound,
Through dew and exhalation;
Ye trip it deftly on the ground,
But gain no elevation.

Tiny step and lofty leap,
Through dew and breath of air;
You dance skillfully on the ground,
But get no higher up.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

Can I indeed believe my eyes?
Is't not mere masquerading?
What! Oberon in beauteous step
Among the groups parading!

Can I really trust my eyes?
Is it not just a disguise?
What! Oberon in beautiful stride
Among the crowds marching!

ORTHODOX

No claws, no tail to whisk about,
To fright us at our revel;—
Yet like the gods of Greece, no doubt,
He too's a genuine devil.

No claws, no tail to swish around,
To scare us during our celebrations;—
Yet like the gods of Greece, without a doubt,
He’s also a real devil.

NORTHERN ARTIST

These that I'm hitting off to-day
Are sketches unpretending;
Towards Italy without delay,
My steps I think of bending.

These that I'm sending off today
Are simple sketches;
I'm thinking of heading
Straight to Italy without delay.

PURIST

Alas! ill-fortune leads me here,
Where riot still grows louder;
And 'mong the witches gather'd here
But two alone wear powder!

Alas! Bad luck brings me here,
Where the chaos keeps getting louder;
And among the witches gathered here
Only two of them wear makeup!

YOUNG WITCH

Your powder and your petticoat,
Suit hags, there's no gainsaying;
Hence I sit fearless on my goat,
My naked charms displaying.

Your makeup and your skirt,
Work for old hags, no doubt about it;
So here I am, fearless on my goat,
Showing off my naked body.

MATRON

We're too well-bred to squabble here,
Or insult back to render;
But may you wither soon, my dear,
Although so young and tender.

We're too refined to argue here,
Or throw insults back at you;
But may you fade away soon, my dear,
Even though you're so young and delicate.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis,
Throng not the naked beauty!
Frogs and crickets in the mosses,
Keep time and do your duty!

Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis,
Don’t crowd the naked beauty!
Frogs and crickets in the moss,
Keep time and do your part!

WEATHERCOCK (towards one side)

WEATHERCOCK (leaning to one side)

What charming company I view
Together here collected!
Gay bachelors, a hopeful crew.
And brides so unaffected!

What lovely company I see
Gathered here together!
Cheerful bachelors, a promising group.
And brides so natural!

WEATHERCOCK (towards the other side)

WEATHERCOCK (facing the other side)

Unless indeed the yawning ground
Should open to receive them,
From this vile crew, with sudden bound,
To Hell I'd jump and leave them.

Unless the ground should open wide
To take them in,
From this horrible bunch, with a quick leap,
I'd jump to Hell and leave them behind.

XENIEN

With small sharp shears, in insect guise
Behold us at your revel!
That we may tender, filial-wise,
Our homage to the devil.

With tiny sharp scissors, in insect form
Look at us at your party!
So we can humbly pay our respect,
To the devil, in a family way.

HENNINGS

Look now at yonder eager crew,
How naively they're jesting!
That they have tender hearts and true,
They stoutly keep protesting!

Look now at that eager group,
How naively they're joking!
That they have kind hearts and are genuine,
They boldly keep insisting!

MUSAGET

Oneself amid this witchery
How pleasantly one loses;
For witches easier are to me
To govern than the Muses!

Oneself amid this witchery
How wonderfully one loses;
For witches are easier for me
To manage than the Muses!

CI-DEVANT GENIUS OF THE AGE

With proper folks when we appear,
No one can then surpass us!
Keep close, wide is the Blocksberg here
As Germany's Parnassus.

With the right people around us,
No one can beat us!
Stay close, the Blocksberg is vast here
Like Germany's Parnassus.

INQUISITIVE TRAVELLER

How name ye that stiff formal man,
Who strides with lofty paces?
He tracks the game where'er he can,
"He scents the Jesuits' traces."

What do you call that stiff, formal man,
Who walks with such high strides?
He follows the game wherever he can,
"He picks up on the Jesuits' signs."

CRANE

Where waters troubled are or clear,
To fish I am delighted;
Thus pious gentlemen appear
With devils here united.

Where the water is rough or calm,
I'm happy to go fishing;
So righteous gentlemen seem
Joined here with devils.

WORLDLING

By pious people, it is true,
No medium is rejected;
Conventicles, and not a few,
On Blocksberg are erected.

By devout people, it is true,
No medium is turned away;
Gatherings, and not a few,
On the Brocken are set up.

DANCER

Another chorus now succeeds,
Far off the drums are beating.
Be still! The bitterns 'mong the reeds
Their one note are repeating.

Another chorus now follows,
In the distance, the drums are beating.
Be quiet! The bitterns among the reeds
Are repeating their one note.

DANCING MASTER

Each twirls about and never stops,
And as he can he fareth.
The crooked leaps, the clumsy hops,
Nor for appearance careth.

Each spins around and never stops,
And as he can, he goes.
The awkward jumps, the clumsy hops,
Nor for looks does he care.

FIDDLER

To take each other's life, I trow,
Would cordially delight them!
As Orpheus' lyre the beasts, so now
The bagpipe doth unite them.

To take each other's lives, I think,
Would truly make them happy!
Just like Orpheus' lyre calmed the beasts, now
The bagpipe brings them together.

DOGMATIST

My views, in spite of doubt and sneer,
I hold with stout persistence,
Inferring from the devils here,
The evil one's existence.

My opinions, despite doubt and mockery,
I hold with strong determination,
Drawing from the demons here,
The evil one's reality.

IDEALIST

My every sense rules Phantasy
With sway quite too potential;
Sure I'm demented if the I
Alone is the essential.

My every sense governs Fantasy
With too much power;
I must be crazy if the I
Is all that really matters.

REALIST

This entity's a dreadful bore,
And cannot choose but vex me;
The ground beneath me ne'er before
Thus totter'd to perplex me.

This person is such a drag,
And can't help but annoy me;
The ground under me has never
Shaken like this to confuse me.

SUPERNATURALIST

Well pleased assembled here I view
Of spirits this profusion;
From devils, touching angels too,
I gather some conclusion.

Well pleased, I gather here
This mix of spirits;
From devils to angels,
I draw some conclusions.

SCEPTIC

The ignis fatuus they track out,
And think they're near the treasure,
Devil alliterates with doubt,
Here I abide with pleasure.

The will-o'-the-wisp they chase,
And think they're close to the treasure,
Devil combines with doubt,
Here I stay with pleasure.

LEADER OF THE BAND

Frog and cricket in the mosses,—
Confound your gasconading!
Nose of fly and gnat's proboscis;—
Most tuneful serenading!

Frog and cricket in the mosses,—
Stop your bragging!
Nose of fly and gnat's mouth;—
Most beautiful serenade!

THE KNOWING ONES

Sans-souci, so this host we greet,
Their jovial humour showing;
There's now no walking on our feet,
So on our heads we're going.

Carefree, so to this host we say hello,
Their cheerful humor shining through;
There's no need to stand on our feet,
So on our heads we'll go too.

THE AWKWARD ONES

In seasons past we snatch'd, 'tis true,
Some tit-bits by our cunning;
Our shoes, alas, are now danced through,
On our bare soles we're running.

In previous seasons, we grabbed, it's true,
Some tidbits with our cleverness;
Our shoes, unfortunately, are worn out,
And we're running on our bare feet.

WILL-O'-THE-WISPS

From marshy bogs we sprang to light,
Yet here behold us dancing;
The gayest gallants of the night,
In glitt'ring rows advancing.

From muddy swamps, we emerged into the light,
Yet here we are, dancing;
The brightest party-goers of the night,
In shimmering lines advancing.

SHOOTING STAR

With rapid motion from on high,
I shot in starry splendour;
Now prostrate on the grass I lie;—
Who aid will kindly render?

With swift movement from above,
I soared in starry brilliance;
Now lying flat on the grass;
Who will offer their help kindly?

THE MASSIVE ONES

Room! wheel round! They're coming lo!
Down sink the bending grasses.
Though spirits, yet their limbs, we know,
Are huge substantial masses.

Room! Wheel around! They're coming, look!
Down sink the bending grasses.
Though they are spirits, we know their limbs
Are huge, solid masses.

PUCK

Don't stamp so heavily, I pray;
Like elephants you're treading!
And 'mong the elves be Puck to-day,
The stoutest at the wedding!

Don't stomp so hard, please;
You're moving like elephants!
And today among the elves is Puck,
The strongest at the wedding!

ARIEL

If nature boon, or subtle sprite,
Endow your soul with pinions;—
Then follow to yon rosy height,
Through ether's calm dominions!

If nature blesses you, or a clever spirit,
Gives your soul wings;—
Then follow to that rosy peak,
Through the peaceful realms of the sky!

ORCHESTRA (pianissimo)

ORCHESTRA (very quiet)

Drifting cloud and misty wreathes
Are fill'd with light elysian;
O'er reed and leaf the zephyr breathes—
So fades the fairy vision!

Drifting clouds and misty wreaths
Are filled with heavenly light;
Across reeds and leaves the breeze blows—
So fades the fairy vision!

I cannot loose the bands of the avenger, nor withdraw his bolts.—Save her!—Who was it plunged her into perdition? I or thou?

I can't break the avenger's bonds, nor remove his locks.—Save her!—Who put her in this awful situation? Me or you?

Tip and sway!

NIGHT. OPEN COUNTRY

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES

(Rushing along on black horses)

FAUST

What weave they yonder round the Ravenstone?

What are they weaving over there by the Ravenstone?

MEPHISTOPHELES

I know not what they shape and brew.

I don't know what they are making and preparing.

FAUST

They're soaring, swooping, betiding, stooping.

They're flying, diving, happening, bending.

MEPHISTOPHELES

A witches' pack.

A witches' coven.

FAUST

They charm, they strew.

They enchant, they scatter.

MEPHISTOPHELES

On! On!

Go! Go!

DUNGEON

FAUST (with a bunch of keys and a lamp before a small iron door)

FAUST (with a bunch of keys and a lamp in front of a small iron door)

A fear unwonted o'er my spirit falls;
Man's concentrated woe o'erwhelms me here!
She dwells immur'd within these dripping walls;
Her only trespass a delusion dear!
Thou lingerest at the fatal door,
Thou dread'st to see her face once more?
On! While thou dalliest, draws her death-hour near.
(He seizes the lock. Singing within.)
My mother, the harlot,
She took me and slew!
My father, the scoundrel,
Hath eaten me too!
My sweet little sister
Hath all my bones laid,
Where soft breezes whisper
All in the cool shade!
Then became I a wood-bird, and sang on the spray,
Fly away! little bird, fly away! fly away!

A weird fear wraps around my spirit;
Man's deep sorrow overwhelms me here!
She’s trapped inside these dripping walls;
Her only crime is a cherished illusion!
You linger at the deadly door,
Are you afraid to see her face again?
Hurry! While you hesitate, her death draws near.
(He grabs the lock. Singing from inside.)
My mother, the prostitute,
She took me and killed me!
My father, the jerk,
Has consumed me too!
My sweet little sister
Has buried all my bones,
Where soft breezes whisper
All in the cool shade!
Then I became a wood-bird, singing on the branch,
Fly away! little bird, fly away! fly away!

FAUST (opening the lock)

FAUST (unlocking the door)

Ah! she forebodes not that her lover's near,
The clanking chains, the rustling straw, to hear.
(He enters.)

Ah! She doesn’t realize her lover is close,
The clanking chains, the rustling straw, to hear.
(He enters.)

MARGARET (hiding her face in the bed of straw)

MARGARET (hiding her face in the straw bed)

Woe! woe! they come! oh bitter 'tis to die!

Woe! Woe! They’re coming! Oh, how bitter it is to die!

FAUST (softly)

FAUST (whispers)

Hush! hush! be still! I come to set thee free!

Hush! Hush! Stay quiet! I'm here to set you free!

MARGARET (throwing herself at his feet)

If thou art human, feel my misery!

If you are human, feel my misery!

FAUST

Thou wilt awake the jailor with thy cry!
(He grasps the chains to unlock them.)

You’ll wake the jailer with your shout!
(He grabs the chains to unlock them.)

MARGARET (on her knees)

MARGARET (kneeling)

Who, headsman, unto thee this power
O'er me could give?
Thou com'st for me at midnight-hour.
Be merciful, and let me live!
Is morrow's dawn not time enough?
(She stands up.)

Who, executioner, gave you this power
Over me?
You come for me at midnight.
Please be merciful and let me live!
Is tomorrow morning not soon enough?
(She stands up.)

I'm still so young, so young—
And must so early die!
Fair was I too, and that was my undoing.
My love is now afar, he then was nigh;
Torn lies the garland, the fair blossoms strew'd.
Nay, seize me not with hand so rude!
Spare me! What harm have I e'er done to thee?
Oh let me not in vain implore!
I ne'er have seen thee in my life before!

I'm still so young, so young—
And must die so early!
I was beautiful too, and that was my downfall.
My love is now far away, he was once close;
The garland is torn, the lovely blossoms scattered.
Please don’t grab me with such harsh hands!
Spare me! What harm have I ever done to you?
Oh, let me not ask in vain!
I’ve never seen you in my life before!

FAUST
Can I endure this bitter agony?

FAUST
Can I stand this intense pain?

MARGARET

I now am at thy mercy quite.
Let me my babe but suckle once again!
I fondled it the live-long night;
They took it from me but to give me pain,
And now, they say that I my child have slain.
Gladness I ne'er again shall know.
Then they sing songs about me,—'tis wicked of the throng—
An ancient ballad endeth so;
Who bade them thus apply the song?

I’m completely at your mercy now.
Just let me nurse my baby one more time!
I held it close all night long;
They took it from me just to cause me pain,
And now they say I’ve killed my child.
I will never know happiness again.
Then they sing songs about me—it's so cruel of the crowd—
An old ballad ends like that;
Who told them to use the song this way?

FAUST (throwing himself on the ground)

A lover at thy feet bends low,
To loose the bonds of wretchedness and woe.

A lover kneels at your feet,
To release the chains of misery and sorrow.

MARGARET (throws herself beside him)

MARGARET (collapses next to him)

Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer!
Look! look! yon stairs below,
Under the threshold there,
Hell's flames are all aglow!
Beneath the floor,
With hideous noise,
The devils roar!

Oh, let’s kneel and reach out to the saints with our prayers!
Look! Look! Those stairs down there,
Under the entrance,
Hell's flames are shining bright!
Beneath the ground,
With terrifying sounds,
The devils are roaring!

FAUST (aloud)

FAUST (out loud)

Gretchen! Gretchen!

MARGARET (listening)

MARGARET (listening in)

That was my lov'd one's voice!
(She springs up, the chains fall off.)

That was my loved one's voice!
(She jumps up, the chains fall off.)

Where is he? I heard him calling me.
Free am I! There's none shall hinder me.
To his neck will I fly,
On his bosom will lie!

Where is he? I heard him calling me.
I’m free! No one can hold me back.
I will fly to his neck,
And lie on his chest!

Gretchen, he called!—
On yon threshold he stood;
Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,
The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,
The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.

Gretchen, he called!—
He stood at that doorway;
Amidst all the howling of hell's fiery flood,
The mockery and contempt of its devilish crew,
The sound of his voice, sweet and loving, I recognized.

FAUST

'Tis I!

It's me!

MARGARET

'Tis thou! O say so once again! (embracing him.)

'It's you! Oh say it again! (embracing him.)

'Tis he! 'Tis he! where's now the torturing pain?
Where are the fetters? where the dungeon's gloom?
'Tis thou! To save me thou art come!
And I am sav'd!—
Already now the street I see
Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee.
There too the pleasant garden shade,
Where I and Martha for thy coming stay'd.

It's him! It's him! Where's the torturing pain now?
Where are the shackles? Where's the dungeon's gloom?
It's you! You've come to save me!
And I'm saved!—
I can already see the street
Where I first caught a glimpse of you.
There's also the nice garden shade,
Where Martha and I waited for your arrival.

FAUST (endeavouring to lead her away,)

FAUST (trying to guide her away,)

Come! come away!

Come on! Let's go!

MARGARET

Oh do not haste!
I love to linger where thou stayest. (caressing him.)

Oh, don’t rush!
I love to take my time where you are. (caressing him.)

FAUST

Ah haste! For if thou still delayest,
Our lingering we shall both deplore.

Ah hurry! Because if you keep delaying,
We'll both regret our waiting.

MARGARET

How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more!
So short a time away from me, and yet,
To kiss thou couldst so soon forget!
Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel—
When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss
From thy dear looks and words would o'er me steal?
As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!—
Kiss me!
Or I'll kiss thee! (She embraces him.)

How, my dear? Can you really not kiss me anymore?
It's only been a short time apart, and yet,
You could forget how to kiss so quickly?
Why do I feel so anxious about your neck—
When before, your sweet looks and words would bring me
A perfect heaven of joy?
You used to kiss me like you wanted to suffocate me! —
Kiss me!
Or I’ll kiss you! (She embraces him.)

Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold,— Are dumb!
Thy love where hast thou left?
Who bath me of thy love bereft?
(She turns away from him.)

Oh no! Oh no! Your lips are cold,— They are silent!
Where have you left your love?
Who has taken away your love from me?
(She turns away from him.)

FAUST

Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold!
I'll cherish thee with ardour thousand-fold;
I but entreat thee now to follow me!

Yes! day draws near.
The day of judgment too will soon appear!
It should have been my bridal! No one tell,
That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well.
Woe to my garland!
Its bloom is o'er!
Though not at the dance—
We shall meet once more.
The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls;
The squares, the streets,
Scarce hold the throng.
The staff is broken,—the death-bell tolls,—
They bind and seize me!
I'm hurried along,
To the seat of blood already I'm bound!
Quivers each neck as the naked steel
Quivers on mine the blow to deal—
The silence of the grave now broods around!

Yes! The day is coming closer.
The day of judgment will soon be here!
It should have been my wedding day! Don’t let anyone say,
That your poor Gretchen you’ve known too well.
Woe to my garland!
Its bloom is gone!
Though not at the dance—
We shall meet once more.
The crowd gathers, rolling in silence;
The squares, the streets,
Barely hold the throng.
The staff is broken—the death-bell tolls—
They bind and seize me!
I’m rushed along,
I’m already bound for the seat of blood!
Each neck quivers as the naked steel
Quivers on mine to deliver the blow—
The silence of the grave now surrounds!

FAUST

Would I had never been born!

MEPHISTOPHELES (appears without)

MEPHISTOPHELES (appears uninvited)

She now is judged!

She's being judged now!

VOICES (from above)

Is saved!

Saved!

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST)

Come thou with me!
(Vanishes with FAUST)

Join me!
(Vanishes with FAUST)

VOICE (from within, dying away)

VOICE (from inside, fading away)

Henry! Henry!

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