Who dare express Him?
And who profess Him,
Saying: I believe in Him!
Who, feeling, seeing,
Deny His being,
Saying: I believe Him not!
The All-enfolding,
The All-upholding,
Folds and upholds he not
Thee, me, Himself?
Arches not there the sky above us?
Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth?
And rise not, on us shining,
Friendly, the everlasting stars?
Look I not, eye to eye, on thee,
And feel’st not, thronging
To head and heart, the force,
Still weaving its eternal secret,
Invisible, visible, round thy life?
Vast as it is, fill with that force thy heart,
And when thou in the feeling wholly blessed art,
Call it, then, what thou wilt,—
Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God!
I have no name to give it!
Feeling is all in all:
The Name is sound and smoke,
Obscuring Heaven’s clear glow.
MARGARET
All that is fine and good, to hear it so:
Much the same way the preacher spoke,
Only with slightly different phrases.
FAUST
The same thing, in all places,
All hearts that beat beneath the heavenly day—
Each in its language—say;
Then why not I, in mine, as well?
MARGARET
To hear it thus, it may seem passable;
And yet, some hitch in’t there must be
For thou hast no Christianity.
FAUST
Dear love!
MARGARET
I’ve long been grieved to see
That thou art in such company.
FAUST
How so?
MARGARET
The man who with thee goes, thy mate,
Within my deepest, inmost soul I hate.
In all my life there’s nothing
Has given my heart so keen a pang of loathing,
As his repulsive face has done.
FAUST
Nay, fear him not, my sweetest one!
MARGARET
I feel his presence like something ill.
I’ve else, for all, a kindly will,
But, much as my heart to see thee yearneth,
The secret horror of him returneth;
And I think the man a knave, as I live!
If I do him wrong, may God forgive!
FAUST
There must be such queer birds, however.
MARGARET
Live with the like of him, may I never!
When once inside the door comes he,
He looks around so sneeringly,
And half in wrath:
One sees that in nothing no interest he hath:
’Tis written on his very forehead
That love, to him, is a thing abhorréd.
I am so happy on thine arm,
So free, so yielding, and so warm,
And in his presence stifled seems my heart.
FAUST
Foreboding angel that thou art!
MARGARET
It overcomes me in such degree,
That wheresoe’er he meets us, even,
I feel as though I’d lost my love for thee.
When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven.
That burns within me like a flame,
And surely, Henry, ’tis with thee the same.
FAUST
There, now, is thine antipathy!
MARGARET
But I must go.
FAUST
Ah, shall there never be
A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted,
With breast to breast, and soul to soul united?
MARGARET
Ah, if I only slept alone!
I’d draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire;
But mother’s sleep so light has grown,
And if we were discovered by her,
’Twould be my death upon the spot!
FAUST
Thou angel, fear it not!
Here is a phial: in her drink
But three drops of it measure,
And deepest sleep will on her senses sink.
MARGARET
What would I not, to give thee pleasure?
It will not harm her, when one tries it?
FAUST
If ’twould, my love, would I advise it?
MARGARET
Ah, dearest man, if but thy face I see,
I know not what compels me to thy will:
So much have I already done for thee,
That scarcely more is left me to fulfil.
(_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES.) [_Exit_.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The monkey! Is she gone?
FAUST
Hast played the spy again?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve heard, most fully, how she drew thee.
The Doctor has been catechised, ’tis plain;
Great good, I hope, the thing will do thee.
The girls have much desire to ascertain
If one is prim and good, as ancient rules compel:
If there he’s led, they think, he’ll follow them as well.
FAUST
Thou, monster, wilt nor see nor own
How this pure soul, of faith so lowly,
So loving and ineffable,—
The faith alone
That her salvation is,—with scruples holy
Pines, lest she hold as lost the man she loves so well!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Thou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire,
A girl by the nose is leading thee.
FAUST
Abortion, thou, of filth and fire!
MEPHISTOPHELES
And then, how masterly she reads physiognomy!
When I am present she’s impressed, she knows not how;
She in my mask a hidden sense would read:
She feels that surely I’m a genius now,—
Perhaps the very Devil, indeed!
Well, well,—to-night—?
FAUST
What’s that to thee?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yet my delight ’twill also be!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVII
AT THE FOUNTAIN
MARGARET _and_ LISBETH _With pitchers_.
LISBETH
Hast nothing heard of Barbara?
MARGARET
No, not a word. I go so little out.
LISBETH
It’s true, Sibylla said, to-day.
She’s played the fool at last, there’s not a doubt.
Such taking-on of airs!
MARGARET
How so?
LISBETH
It stinks!
She’s feeding two, whene’er she eats and drinks.
MARGARET
Ah!
LISBETH
And so, at last, it serves her rightly.
She clung to the fellow so long and tightly!
That was a promenading!
At village and dance parading!
As the first they must everywhere shine,
And he treated her always to pies and wine,
And she made a to-do with her face so fine;
So mean and shameless was her behavior,
She took all the presents the fellow gave her.
’Twas kissing and coddling, on and on!
So now, at the end, the flower is gone.
MARGARET
The poor, poor thing!
LISBETH
Dost pity her, at that?
When one of us at spinning sat,
And mother, nights, ne’er let us out the door
She sported with her paramour.
On the door-bench, in the passage dark,
The length of the time they’d never mark.
So now her head no more she’ll lift,
But do church-penance in her sinner’s shift!
MARGARET
He’ll surely take her for his wife.
LISBETH
He’d be a fool! A brisk young blade
Has room, elsewhere, to ply his trade.
Besides, he’s gone.
MARGARET
That is not fair!
LISBETH
If him she gets, why let her beware!
The boys shall dash her wreath on the floor,
And we’ll scatter chaff before her door!
[_Exit_.
MARGARET (_returning home_)
How scornfully I once reviled,
When some poor maiden was beguiled!
More speech than any tongue suffices
I craved, to censure others’ vices.
Black as it seemed, I blackened still,
And blacker yet was in my will;
And blessed myself, and boasted high,—
And now—a living sin am I!
Yet—all that drove my heart thereto,
God! was so good, so dear, so true!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XVIII
DONJON
(_In a niche of the wall a shrine, with an image of the Mater
Dolorosa. Pots of flowers before it_.)
MARGARET
(_putting fresh flowers in the pots_)
Incline, O Maiden,
Thou sorrow-laden,
Thy gracious countenance upon my pain!
The sword Thy heart in,
With anguish smarting,
Thou lookest up to where Thy Son is slain!
Thou seest the Father;
Thy sad sighs gather,
And bear aloft Thy sorrow and His pain!
Ah, past guessing,
Beyond expressing,
The pangs that wring my flesh and bone!
Why this anxious heart so burneth,
Why it trembleth, why it yearneth,
Knowest Thou, and Thou alone!
Where’er I go, what sorrow,
What woe, what woe and sorrow
Within my bosom aches!
Alone, and ah! unsleeping,
I’m weeping, weeping, weeping,
The heart within me breaks.
The pots before my window,
Alas! my tears did wet,
As in the early morning
For thee these flowers I set.
Within my lonely chamber
The morning sun shone red:
I sat, in utter sorrow,
Already on my bed.
Help! rescue me from death and stain!
O Maiden!
Thou sorrow-laden,
Incline Thy countenance upon my pain!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XIX
NIGHT
STREET BEFORE MARGARET’S DOOR
VALENTINE (_a soldier_, MARGARET’S _brother_)
When I have sat at some carouse.
Where each to each his brag allows,
And many a comrade praised to me
His pink of girls right lustily,
With brimming glass that spilled the toast,
And elbows planted as in boast:
I sat in unconcerned repose,
And heard the swagger as it rose.
And stroking then my beard, I’d say,
Smiling, the bumper in my hand:
“Each well enough in her own way.
But is there one in all the land
Like sister Margaret, good as gold,—
One that to her can a candle hold?”
Cling! clang! “Here’s to her!” went around
The board: “He speaks the truth!” cried some;
“In her the flower o’ the sex is found!”
And all the swaggerers were dumb.
And now!—I could tear my hair with vexation.
And dash out my brains in desperation!
With turned-up nose each scamp may face me,
With sneers and stinging taunts disgrace me,
And, like a bankrupt debtor sitting,
A chance-dropped word may set me sweating!
Yet, though I thresh them all together,
I cannot call them liars, either.
But what comes sneaking, there, to view?
If I mistake not, there are two.
If _he’s_ one, let me at him drive!
He shall not leave the spot alive.
FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES
FAUST
How from the window of the sacristy
Upward th’eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer,
That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer,
Till darkness closes from the sky!
The shadows thus within my bosom gather.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m like a sentimental tom-cat, rather,
That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps,
And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps:
Quite virtuous, withal, I come,
A little thievish and a little frolicsome.
I feel in every limb the presage
Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night:
Day after to-morrow brings its message,
And one keeps watch then with delight.
FAUST
Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be,
Which there, behind, I glimmering see?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Shalt soon experience the pleasure,
To lift the kettle with its treasure.
I lately gave therein a squint—
Saw splendid lion-dollars in ’t.
FAUST
Not even a jewel, not a ring,
To deck therewith my darling girl?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I saw, among the rest, a thing
That seemed to be a chain of pearl.
FAUST
That’s well, indeed! For painful is it
To bring no gift when her I visit.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Thou shouldst not find it so annoying,
Without return to be enjoying.
Now, while the sky leads forth its starry throng,
Thou’lt hear a masterpiece, no work completer:
I’ll sing her, first, a moral song,
The surer, afterwards, to cheat her.
(_Sings to the cither_.)
What dost thou here
In daybreak clear,
Kathrina dear,
Before thy lover’s door?
Beware! the blade
Lets in a maid.
That out a maid
Departeth nevermore!
The coaxing shun
Of such an one!
When once ’tis done
Good-night to thee, poor thing!
Love’s time is brief:
Unto no thief
Be warm and lief,
But with the wedding-ring!
VALENTINE (_comes forward_)
Whom wilt thou lure? God’s-element!
Rat-catching piper, thou!—perdition!
To the Devil, first, the instrument!
To the Devil, then, the curst musician!
MEPHISTOPHELES
The cither’s smashed! For nothing more ’tis fitting.
VALENTINE
There’s yet a skull I must be splitting!
MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
Sir Doctor, don’t retreat, I pray!
Stand by: I’ll lead, if you’ll but tarry:
Out with your spit, without delay!
You’ve but to lunge, and I will parry.
VALENTINE
Then parry that!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Why not? ’tis light.
VALENTINE
That, too!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Of course.
VALENTINE
I think the Devil must fight!
How is it, then? my hand’s already lame:
MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST)
Thrust home!
VALENTINE (_jails_)
O God!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Now is the lubber tame!
But come, away! ’Tis time for us to fly;
For there arises now a murderous cry.
With the police ’twere easy to compound it,
But here the penal court will sift and sound it.
[_Exit with_ FAUST.
MARTHA (_at the window_)
Come out! Come out!
MARGARET (_at the window_)
Quick, bring a light!
MARTHA (_as above_)
They swear and storm, they yell and fight!
PEOPLE
Here lies one dead already—see!
MARTHA (_coming from the house_)
The murderers, whither have they run?
MARGARET (_coming out_)
Who lies here?
PEOPLE
’Tis thy mother’s son!
MARGARET
Almighty God! what misery!
VALENTINE
I’m dying! That is quickly said,
And quicker yet ’tis done.
Why howl, you women there? Instead,
Come here and listen, every one!
(_All gather around him_)
My Margaret, see! still young thou art,
But not the least bit shrewd or smart,
Thy business thus to slight:
So this advice I bid thee heed—
Now that thou art a whore indeed,
Why, be one then, outright!
MARGARET
My brother! God! such words to me?
VALENTINE
In this game let our Lord God be!
What’s done’s already done, alas!
What follows it, must come to pass.
With one begin’st thou secretly,
Then soon will others come to thee,
And when a dozen thee have known,
Thou’rt also free to all the town.
When Shame is born and first appears,
She is in secret brought to light,
And then they draw the veil of night
Over her head and ears;
Her life, in fact, they’re loath to spare her.
But let her growth and strength display,
She walks abroad unveiled by day,
Yet is not grown a whit the fairer.
The uglier she is to sight,
The more she seeks the day’s broad light.
The time I verily can discern
When all the honest folk will turn
From thee, thou jade! and seek protection
As from a corpse that breeds infection.
Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee.
When they but look thee in the face:—
Shalt not in a golden chain array thee,
Nor at the altar take thy place!
Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing,
Make merry when the dance is going!
But in some corner, woe betide thee!
Among the beggars and cripples hide thee;
And so, though even God forgive,
On earth a damned existence live!
MARTHA
Commend your soul to God for pardon,
That you your heart with slander harden!
VALENTINE
Thou pimp most infamous, be still!
Could I thy withered body kill,
’Twould bring, for all my sinful pleasure,
Forgiveness in the richest measure.
MARGARET
My brother! This is Hell’s own pain!
VALENTINE
I tell thee, from thy tears refrain!
When thou from honor didst depart
It stabbed me to the very heart.
Now through the slumber of the grave
I go to God as a soldier brave.
(_Dies_.)
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XX
CATHEDRAL
SERVICE, ORGAN _and_ ANTHEM.
(MARGARET _among much people: the_ EVIL SPIRIT _behind_
MARGARET.)
EVIL SPIRIT
HOW otherwise was it, Margaret,
When thou, still innocent,
Here to the altar cam’st,
And from the worn and fingered book
Thy prayers didst prattle,
Half sport of childhood,
Half God within thee!
Margaret!
Where tends thy thought?
Within thy bosom
What hidden crime?
Pray’st thou for mercy on thy mother’s soul,
That fell asleep to long, long torment, and through thee?
Upon thy threshold whose the blood?
And stirreth not and quickens
Something beneath thy heart,
Thy life disquieting
With most foreboding presence?
MARGARET
Woe! woe!
Would I were free from the thoughts
That cross me, drawing hither and thither
Despite me!
CHORUS
_Diesira, dies illa,
Solvet soeclum in favilla_!
_(Sound of the organ_.)
EVIL SPIRIT
Wrath takes thee!
The trumpet peals!
The graves tremble!
And thy heart
From ashy rest
To fiery torments
Now again requickened,
Throbs to life!
MARGARET
Would I were forth!
I feel as if the organ here
My breath takes from me,
My very heart
Dissolved by the anthem!
CHORUS
_Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet, ad parebit,
Nil inultum remanebit_.
MARGARET
I cannot breathe!
The massy pillars
Imprison me!
The vaulted arches
Crush me!—Air!
EVIL SPIRIT
Hide thyself! Sin and shame
Stay never hidden.
Air? Light?
Woe to thee!
CHORUS
_Quid sum miser tunc dicturus,
Quem patronem rogaturus,
Cum vix Justus sit securus_?
EVIL SPIRIT
They turn their faces,
The glorified, from thee:
The pure, their hands to offer,
Shuddering, refuse thee!
Woe!
CHORUS
_Quid sum miser tune dicturus_?
MARGARET
Neighbor! your cordial! (_She falls in a swoon_.)
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
XXI
WALPURGIS-NIGHT
THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS.
_District of Schierke and Elend_.
FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES
MEPHISTOPHELES
DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed’s assistance?
The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see:
The way we take, our goal is yet some distance.
FAUST
So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence.
This knotted staff suffices me.
What need to shorten so the way?
Along this labyrinth of vales to wander,
Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder,
Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray,
Is such delight, my steps would fain delay.
The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches,
And even the fir-tree feels it now:
Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I notice no such thing, I vow!
’Tis winter still within my body:
Upon my path I wish for frost and snow.
How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy,
The moon’s lone disk, with its belated glow,
And lights so dimly, that, as one advances,
At every step one strikes a rock or tree!
Let us, then, use a Jack-o’-lantern’s glances:
I see one yonder, burning merrily.
Ho, there! my friend! I’ll levy thine attendance:
Why waste so vainly thy resplendence?
Be kind enough to light us up the steep!
WILL-O’-THE-WISP
My reverence, I hope, will me enable
To curb my temperament unstable;
For zigzag courses we are wont to keep.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Indeed? he’d like mankind to imitate!
Now, in the Devil’s name, go straight,
Or I’ll blow out his being’s flickering spark!
WILL-O’-THE-WISP
You are the master of the house, I mark,
And I shall try to serve you nicely.
But then, reflect: the mountain’s magic-mad to-day,
And if a will-o’-the-wisp must guide you on the way,
You mustn’t take things too precisely.
FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O’-THE-WISP
(_in alternating song_)
We, it seems, have entered newly
In the sphere of dreams enchanted.
Do thy bidding, guide us truly,
That our feet be forwards planted
In the vast, the desert spaces!
See them swiftly changing places,
Trees on trees beside us trooping,
And the crags above us stooping,
And the rocky snouts, outgrowing,—
Hear them snoring, hear them blowing!
O’er the stones, the grasses, flowing
Stream and streamlet seek the hollow.
Hear I noises? songs that follow?
Hear I tender love-petitions?
Voices of those heavenly visions?
Sounds of hope, of love undying!
And the echoes, like traditions
Of old days, come faint and hollow.
Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover
Jay and screech-owl, and the plover,—
Are they all awake and crying?
Is’t the salamander pushes,
Bloated-bellied, through the bushes?
And the roots, like serpents twisted,
Through the sand and boulders toiling,
Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling
To entrap us, unresisted:
Living knots and gnarls uncanny
Feel with polypus-antennae
For the wanderer. Mice are flying,
Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing
Through the moss and through the heather!
And the fire-flies wink and darkle,
Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle,
And in wildering escort gather!
Tell me, if we still are standing,
Or if further we’re ascending?
All is turning, whirling, blending,
Trees and rocks with grinning faces,
Wandering lights that spin in mazes,
Still increasing and expanding!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted!
Here a middle-peak is planted,
Whence one seeth, with amaze,
Mammon in the mountain blaze.
FAUST
How strangely glimmers through the hollows
A dreary light, like that of dawn!
Its exhalation tracks and follows
The deepest gorges, faint and wan.
Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth;
Here burns the glow through film and haze:
Now like a tender thread it creepeth,
Now like a fountain leaps and plays.
Here winds away, and in a hundred
Divided veins the valley braids:
There, in a corner pressed and sundered,
Itself detaches, spreads and fades.
Here gush the sparkles incandescent
Like scattered showers of golden sand;—
But, see! in all their height, at present,
The rocky ramparts blazing stand.
[Illustration: _Under the old ribs of the rock retreating_,]
MEPHISTOPHELES
Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted
His palace for this festal night?
’Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight;
The boisterous guests approach that were invited.
FAUST
How raves the tempest through the air!
With what fierce blows upon my neck ’tis beating!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Under the old ribs of the rock retreating,
Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there!
The night with the mist is black;
Hark! how the forests grind and crack!
Frightened, the owlets are scattered:
Hearken! the pillars are shattered.
The evergreen palaces shaking!
Boughs are groaning and breaking,
The tree-trunks terribly thunder,
The roots are twisting asunder!
In frightfully intricate crashing
Each on the other is dashing,
And over the wreck-strewn gorges
The tempest whistles and surges!
Hear’st thou voices higher ringing?
Far away, or nearer singing?
Yes, the mountain’s side along,
Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song!
WITCHES (_in chorus_)
The witches ride to the Brocken’s top,
The stubble is yellow, and green the crop.
There gathers the crowd for carnival:
Sir Urian sits over all.
And so they go over stone and stock;
The witch she——s, and——s the buck.
A VOICE
Alone, old Baubo’s coming now;
She rides upon a farrow-sow.
CHORUS
Then honor to whom the honor is due!
Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew!
A tough old sow and the mother thereon,
Then follow the witches, every one.
A VOICE
Which way com’st thou hither?
VOICE
O’er the Ilsen-stone.
I peeped at the owl in her nest alone:
How she stared and glared!
VOICE
Betake thee to Hell!
Why so fast and so fell?
VOICE
She has scored and has flayed me:
See the wounds she has made me!
WITCHES (_chorus_)
The way is wide, the way is long:
See, what a wild and crazy throng!
The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts,
The child is stifled, the mother bursts.
WIZARDS (_semichorus_)
As doth the snail in shell, we crawl:
Before us go the women all.
When towards the Devil’s House we tread,
Woman’s a thousand steps ahead.
OTHER SEMICHORUS
We do not measure with such care:
Woman in thousand steps is theft.
But howsoe’er she hasten may,
Man in one leap has cleared the way.
VOICE (_from above_)
Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake!
VOICE (_from below_)
Aloft we’d fain ourselves betake.
We’ve washed, and are bright as ever you will,
Yet we’re eternally sterile still.
BOTH CHORUSES
The wind is hushed, the star shoots by.
The dreary moon forsakes the sky;
The magic notes, like spark on spark,
Drizzle, whistling through the dark.
VOICE (_from below_)
Halt, there! Ho, there!
VOICE (_from above_)
Who calls from the rocky cleft below there?
VOICE (_below_)
Take me, too! take me, too!
I’m climbing now three hundred years,
And yet the summit cannot see:
Among my equals I would be.
BOTH CHORUSES
Bears the broom and bears the stock,
Bears the fork and bears the buck:
Who cannot raise himself to-night
Is evermore a ruined wight.
HALF-WITCH (_below_)
So long I stumble, ill bestead,
And the others are now so far ahead!
At home I’ve neither rest nor cheer,
And yet I cannot gain them here.
CHORUS OF WITCHES
To cheer the witch will salve avail;
A rag will answer for a sail;
Each trough a goodly ship supplies;
He ne’er will fly, who now not flies.
BOTH CHORUSES
When round the summit whirls our flight,
Then lower, and on the ground alight;
And far and wide the heather press
With witchhood’s swarms of wantonness!
(_They settle down_.)
MEPHISTOPHELES
They crowd and push, they roar and clatter!
They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter!
They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn!
The true witch-element we learn.
Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn,
Where art thou?
FAUST (_in the distance_)
Here!
MEPHISTOPHELES
What! whirled so far astray?
Then house-right I must use, and clear the way.
Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble,
room!
Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we’ll resume
An easier space, and from the crowd be free:
It’s too much, even for the like of me.
Yonder, with special light, there’s something shining clearer
Within those bushes; I’ve a mind to see.
Come on! we’ll slip a little nearer.
FAUST
Spirit of Contradiction! On! I’ll follow straight.
’Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright:
We climb the Brocken’s top in the Walpurgis-Night,
That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate.
MEPHISTOPHELES
But see, what motley flames among the heather!
There is a lively club together:
In smaller circles one is not alone.
FAUST
Better the summit, I must own:
There fire and whirling smoke I see.
They seek the Evil One in wild confusion:
Many enigmas there might find solution.
MEPHISTOPHELES
But there enigmas also knotted be.
Leave to the multitude their riot!
Here will we house ourselves in quiet.
It is an old, transmitted trade,
That in the greater world the little worlds are made.
I see stark-nude young witches congregate,
And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly:
On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely!
The trouble’s small, the fun is great.
I hear the noise of instruments attuning,—
Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning.
Come, come along! It _must_ be, I declare!
I’ll go ahead and introduce thee there,
Thine obligation newly earning.
That is no little space: what say’st thou, friend?
Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end:
A hundred fires along the ranks are burning.
They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court:
Now where, just tell me, is there better sport?
FAUST
Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel,
Assume the part of wizard or of devil?
MEPHISTOPHELES