Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
SIEBEL
Yes, sing away, sing on, and praise, and brag of her! I’ll wait my proper time for laughter: Me by the nose she led, and now she’ll lead you after. Her paramour should be an ugly gnome, Where four roads cross, in wanton play to meet her: An old he-goat, from Blocksberg coming home, Should his good-night in lustful gallop bleat her! A fellow made of genuine flesh and blood Is for the wench a deal too good. Greet her? Not I: unless, when meeting, To smash her windows be a greeting! BRANDER (_pounding on the table_) Attention! Hearken now to me! Confess, Sirs, I know how to live. Enamored persons here have we, And I, as suits their quality, Must something fresh for their advantage give. Take heed! ’Tis of the latest cut, my strain, And all strike in at each refrain! (_He sings_.) There was a rat in the cellar-nest, Whom fat and butter made smoother: He had a paunch beneath his vest Like that of Doctor Luther. The cook laid poison cunningly, And then as sore oppressed was he As if he had love in his bosom. CHORUS (_shouting_) As if he had love in his bosom! He ran around, he ran about, His thirst in puddles laving; He gnawed and scratched the house throughout. But nothing cured his raving. He whirled and jumped, with torment mad, And soon enough the poor beast had, As if he had love in his bosom.
As if he had love in his bosom! And driven at last, in open day, He ran into the kitchen, Fell on the hearth, and squirming lay, In the last convulsion twitching. Then laughed the murderess in her glee: “Ha! ha! he’s at his last gasp,” said she, “As if he had love in his bosom!” As if he had love in his bosom! How the dull fools enjoy the matter! To me it is a proper art Poison for such poor rats to scatter. Perhaps you’ll warmly take their part? The bald-pate pot-belly I have noted: Misfortune tames him by degrees; For in the rat by poison bloated His own most natural form he sees. Before all else, I bring thee hither Where boon companions meet together, To let thee see how smooth life runs away. Here, for the folk, each day’s a holiday: With little wit, and ease to suit them, They whirl in narrow, circling trails, Like kittens playing with their tails? And if no headache persecute them, So long the host may credit give, They merrily and careless live. The fact is easy to unravel, Their air’s so odd, they’ve just returned from travel: A single hour they’ve not been here. You’ve verily hit the truth! Leipzig to me is dear: Paris in miniature, how it refines its people!
Who are the strangers, should you guess? Let me alone! I’ll set them first to drinking, And then, as one a child’s tooth draws, with cleverness, I’ll worm their secret out, I’m thinking. They’re of a noble house, that’s very clear: Haughty and discontented they appear. They’re mountebanks, upon a revel. Perhaps. Look out, I’ll smoke them now! MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) Not if he had them by the neck, I vow, Would e’er these people scent the Devil! FAUST Fair greeting, gentlemen! Our thanks: we give the same. (_Murmurs, inspecting_ MEPHISTOPHELES _from the side_.) In one foot is the fellow lame? Is it permitted that we share your leisure? In place of cheering drink, which one seeks vainly here, Your company shall give us pleasure. A most fastidious person you appear. No doubt ’twas late when you from Rippach started? And supping there with Hans occasioned your delay? We passed, without a call, to-day. At our last interview, before we parted Much of his cousins did he speak, entreating That we should give to each his kindly greeting. (_He bows to_ FROSCH.) ALTMAYER (_aside_) You have it now! he understands. A knave sharp-set! Just wait awhile: I’ll have him yet. If I am right, we heard the sound Of well-trained voices, singing chorus; And truly, song must here rebound Superbly from the arches o’er us.
Are you, perhaps, a virtuoso? O no! my wish is great, my power is only so-so. Give us a song! If you desire, a number. So that it be a bran-new strain! We’ve just retraced our way from. Spain, The lovely land of wine, and song, and slumber. (_Sings_.) There was a king once reigning, Who had a big black flea— Hear, hear! A flea! D’ye rightly take the jest? I call a flea a tidy guest. MEPHISTOPHELES (_sings_) There was a king once reigning, Who had a big black flea, And loved him past explaining, As his own son were he. He called his man of stitches; The tailor came straightway: Here, measure the lad for breeches. And measure his coat, I say! But mind, allow the tailor no caprices: Enjoin upon him, as his head is dear, To most exactly measure, sew and shear, So that the breeches have no creases! In silk and velvet gleaming He now was wholly drest— Had a coat with ribbons streaming, A cross upon his breast. He had the first of stations, A minister’s star and name; And also all his relations Great lords at court became. And the lords and ladies of honor Were plagued, awake and in bed; The queen she got them upon her, The maids were bitten and bled. And they did not dare to brush them, Or scratch them, day or night: We crack them and we crush them, At once, whene’er they bite.
CHORUS (_shouting_) We crack them and we crush them, At once, whene’er they bite! FROSCH Bravo! bravo! that was fine. Every flea may it so befall! Point your fingers and nip them all! Hurrah for Freedom! Hurrah for wine! I fain would drink with you, my glass to Freedom clinking, If ’twere a better wine that here I see you drinking. Don’t let us hear that speech again! Did I not fear the landlord might complain, I’d treat these worthy guests, with pleasure, To some from out our cellar’s treasure. Just treat, and let the landlord me arraign! And if the wine be good, our praises shall be ample. But do not give too very small a sample; For, if its quality I decide, With a good mouthful I must be supplied. ALTMAYER (_aside_) They’re from the Rhine! I guessed as much, before. Bring me a gimlet here! What shall therewith be done? You’ve not the casks already at the door? Yonder, within the landlord’s box of tools, there’s one! MEPHISTOPHELES (_takes the gimlet_) (_To_ FROSCH.) Now, give me of your taste some intimation. How do you mean? Have you so many kinds? The choice is free: make up your minds. ALTMAYER (_to_ FROSCH) Aha! you lick your chops, from sheer anticipation. Good! if I have the choice, so let the wine be Rhenish! Our Fatherland can best the sparkling cup replenish.
Now draw the stoppers, and drink your fill! (_as they draw out the stoppers, and the wine which has been desired flows into the glass of each)_ O beautiful fountain, that flows at will! But have a care that you nothing spill! (_They drink repeatedly_.) ALL (_sing_) As ’twere five hundred hogs, we feel So cannibalic jolly! See, now, the race is happy—it is free! To leave them is my inclination. Take notice, first! their bestiality Will make a brilliant demonstration. (_drinks carelessly: the wine spills upon the earth, and turns to flame_) Help! Fire! Help! Hell-fire is sent! MEPHISTOPHELES (_charming away the flame)_ Be quiet, friendly element! (_To the revellers_) A bit of purgatory ’twas for this time, merely. What mean you? Wait!—you’ll pay for’t dearly! You’ll know us, to your detriment. Don’t try that game a second time upon us! I think we’d better send him packing quietly. What, Sir! you dare to make so free, And play your hocus-pocus on us! Be still, old wine-tub. Broomstick, you! You face it out, impertinent and heady? Just wait! a shower of blows is ready. (_draws a stopper out of the table: fire flies in his face_.) I burn! I burn! ’Tis magic! Strike— The knave is outlawed! Cut him as you like! (_They draw their knives, and rush upon_ MEPHISTOPHELES.)
MEPHISTOPHELES (_with solemn gestures_) False word and form of air, Change place, and sense ensnare! Be here—and there! (_They stand amazed and look at each other_.) Where am I? What a lovely land! Vines? Can I trust my eyes? And purple grapes at hand! Here, over this green arbor bending, See what a vine! what grapes depending! (_He takes_ SIEBEL _by the nose: the others do the same reciprocally, and raise their knives_.) MEPHISTOPHELES (_as above_) Loose, Error, from their eyes the band, And how the Devil jests, be now enlightened! (_He disappears with_ FAUST: _the revellers start and separate_.) What happened? How? Was that your nose I tightened? BRANDER (_to_ SIEBEL) And yours that still I have in hand? It was a blow that went through every limb! Give me a chair! I sink! my senses swim. But what has happened, tell me now? Where is he? If I catch the scoundrel hiding, He shall not leave alive, I vow. I saw him with these eyes upon a wine-cask riding Out of the cellar-door, just now. Still in my feet the fright like lead is weighing. (_He turns towards the table_.) Why! If the fount of wine should still be playing? ’Twas all deceit, and lying, false design! And yet it seemed as I were drinking wine. But with the grapes how was it, pray?
Shall one believe no miracles, just say! (_Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a fire is burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which rise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims it, and watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young ones, sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are covered with the most fantastic witch-implements_.) These crazy signs of witches’ craft repel me! I shall recover, dost thou tell me, Through this insane, chaotic play? From an old hag shall I demand assistance? And will her foul mess take away Full thirty years from my existence? Woe’s me, canst thou naught better find! Another baffled hope must be lamented: Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind Not any potent balsam yet invented? Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly. There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter; But in another book ’tis writ for thee, And is a most eccentric chapter. Yet will I know it. Good! the method is revealed Without or gold or magic or physician. Betake thyself to yonder field, There hoe and dig, as thy condition; Restrain thyself, thy sense and will Within a narrow sphere to flourish; With unmixed food thy body nourish; Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft That thou manur’st the acre which thou reapest;— That, trust me, is the best mode left, Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest!
I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it— To take the spade in hand, and ply it. The narrow being suits me not at all. Then to thine aid the witch must call. Wherefore the hag, and her alone? Canst thou thyself not brew the potion? That were a charming sport, I own: I’d build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I’ve a notion. Not Art and Science serve, alone; Patience must in the work be shown. Long is the calm brain active in creation; Time, only, strengthens the fine fermentation. And all, belonging thereunto, Is rare and strange, howe’er you take it: The Devil taught the thing, ’tis true, And yet the Devil cannot make it. (_Perceiving the Animals_) See, what a delicate race they be! That is the maid! the man is he! (_To the Animals_) It seems the mistress has gone away? Carousing, to-day! Off and about, By the chimney out! What time takes she for dissipating? While we to warm our paws are waiting. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) How findest thou the tender creatures? Absurder than I ever yet did see. Why, just such talk as this, for me, Is that which has the most attractive features! (_To the Animals_) But tell me now, ye cursed puppets, Why do ye stir the porridge so? We’re cooking watery soup for beggars.
What do I see? What heavenly form revealed Shows through the glass from Magic’s fair dominions! O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions, And bear me to her beauteous field! Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing, If I attempt to venture near, Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear!— A woman’s form, in beauty shining! Can woman, then, so lovely be? And must I find her body, there reclining, Of all the heavens the bright epitome? Can Earth with such a thing be mated? Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days, Then, self-contented, _Bravo_! says, Must something clever be created. This time, thine eyes be satiate! I’ll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her, And blest is he, who has the lucky fate, Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her. (FAUST _gazes continually in the mirror_. MEPHISTOPHELES, _stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the brush, continues to speak_.) So sit I, like the King upon his throne: I hold the sceptre, here,—and lack the crown alone. (_who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic movements together bring a crown to_ MEPHISTOPHELES _with great noise_.) O be thou so good With sweat and with blood The crown to belime! (_They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two pieces, with which they spring around_.)
(_As the_ WITCH _starts back, full of wrath and horror_) Ha! know’st thou me? Abomination, thou! Know’st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master? What hinders me from smiting now Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster? Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence? Dost recognize no more the tall cock’s-feather? Have I concealed this countenance?— Must tell my name, old face of leather? O pardon, Sir, the rough salute! Yet I perceive no cloven foot; And both your ravens, where are _they_ now? This time, I’ll let thee ’scape the debt; For since we two together met, ’Tis verily full many a day now. Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, Also unto the Devil sticks. The days of that old Northern phantom now are over: Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover? And, as regards the foot, which I can’t spare, in truth, ’Twould only make the people shun me; Therefore I’ve worn, like many a spindly youth, False calves these many years upon me. THE WITCH (_dancing_) Reason and sense forsake my brain, Since I behold Squire Satan here again! Woman, from such a name refrain! Why so? What has it done to thee? It’s long been written in the Book of Fable; Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see: The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable. Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good; A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing. Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood: See, here’s the coat-of-arms that I am wearing!
(_He makes an indecent gesture_.) THE WITCH (_laughs immoderately_) Ha! ha! That’s just your way, I know: A rogue you are, and you were always so. MEPHISTOPHELES (_to_ FAUST) My friend, take proper heed, I pray! To manage witches, this is just the way. Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use? Give us a goblet of the well-known juice! But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage; The years a double strength produce. With all my heart! Now, here’s a bottle, Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle, Which, also, not the slightest, stinks; And willingly a glass I’ll fill him. (_Whispering_) Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks, As well thou know’st, within an hour ’twill kill him. He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree, And he deserves thy kitchen’s best potation: Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration, And fill thy goblet full and free! (_with fantastic gestures draws a circle and places mysterious articles therein; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the caldron to sound, and make a musical accompaniment. Finally she brings a great book, and stations in the circle the Apes, who are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to hold the torches. She then beckons_ FAUST _to approach_.) FAUST (_to_ MEPHISTOPHELES) Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic, The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic,— All the repulsive cheats I view,— Are known to me, and hated, too.
O, nonsense! That’s a thing for laughter; Don’t be so terribly severe! She juggles you as doctor now, that, after, The beverage may work the proper cheer. (_He persuades_ FAUST _to step into the circle_.) (_begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book_) See, thus it’s done! Make ten of one, And two let be, Make even three, And rich thou ’It be. Cast o’er the four! From five and six (The witch’s tricks) Make seven and eight, ’Tis finished straight! And nine is one, And ten is none. This is the witch’s once-one’s-one! She talks like one who raves in fever.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.