Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
MARGARET
Yes, for our household small has grown, Yet must be cared for, you will own. We have no maid: I do the knitting, sewing, sweeping, The cooking, early work and late, in fact; And mother, in her notions of housekeeping, Is so exact! Not that she needs so much to keep expenses down: We, more than others, might take comfort, rather: A nice estate was left us by my father, A house, a little garden near the town. But now my days have less of noise and hurry; My brother is a soldier, My little sister’s dead. True, with the child a troubled life I led, Yet I would take again, and willing, all the worry, So very dear was she. An angel, if like thee! I brought it up, and it was fond of me. Father had died before it saw the light, And mother’s case seemed hopeless quite, So weak and miserable she lay; And she recovered, then, so slowly, day by day. She could not think, herself, of giving The poor wee thing its natural living; And so I nursed it all alone With milk and water: ’twas my own. Lulled in my lap with many a song, It smiled, and tumbled, and grew strong. The purest bliss was surely then thy dower. But surely, also, many a weary hour. I kept the baby’s cradle near My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it, And waking, hear. And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break; And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, But then one learns to relish rest and food.
Sweet darling! Wait a while! (_She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after the other_.) Shall that a nosegay be? No, it is just in play. How? Go! you’ll laugh at me. (_She pulls off the leaves and murmurs_.) What murmurest thou? MARGARET (_half aloud_) He loves me—loves me not. Thou sweet, angelic soul! MARGARET (_continues_) Loves me—not—loves me—not— (_plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight_:) He loves me! Yes, child! and let this blossom-word For thee be speech divine! He loves thee! Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee! (_He grasps both her hands_.) I’m all a-tremble! O tremble not! but let this look, Let this warm clasp of hands declare thee What is unspeakable! To yield one wholly, and to feel a rapture In yielding, that must be eternal! Eternal!—for the end would be despair. No, no,—no ending! no ending! MARTHA (_coming forward_) The night is falling. Ay! we must away. I’d ask you, longer here to tarry, But evil tongues in this town have full play. It’s as if nobody had nothing to fetch and carry, Nor other labor, But spying all the doings of one’s neighbor: And one becomes the talk, do whatsoe’er one may. Where is our couple now? Flown up the alley yonder, The wilful summer-birds! He seems of her still fonder.
And she of him. So runs the world away! (MARGARET _comes in, conceals herself behind the door, puts her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack_.) He comes! FAUST (_entering_) Ah, rogue! a tease thou art: I have thee! (_He kisses her_.) (_clasping him, and returning the kiss_) Dearest man! I love thee from my heart. (MEPHISTOPHELES _knocks_) FAUST (_stamping his foot_) Who’s there? A friend! A beast! Tis time to separate. MARTHA (_coming_) Yes, Sir, ’tis late. May I not, then, upon you wait? MARGARET My mother would—farewell! Ah, can I not remain? Farewell! Adieu! And soon to meet again! [_Exeunt_ FAUST _and_ MEPHISTOPHELES. Dear God! However is it, such A man can think and know so much? I stand ashamed and in amaze, And answer “Yes” to all he says, A poor, unknowing child! and he— I can’t think what he finds in me! [_Exit_.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.