Faust [part 1]. Translated Into English in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
STUDENT
Pardon! With many questions I detain you. Yet must I trouble you again. Of Medicine I still would fain Hear one strong word that might explain you. Three years is but a little space. And, God! who can the field embrace? If one some index could be shown, ’Twere easier groping forward, truly. MEPHISTOPHELES (_aside_) I’m tired enough of this dry tone,— Must play the Devil again, and fully. (_Aloud_) To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy: Learn of the great and little world your fill, To let it go at last, so please ye, Just as God will! In vain that through the realms of science you may drift; Each one learns only—just what learn he can: Yet he who grasps the Moment’s gift, He is the proper man. Well-made you are, ’tis not to be denied, The rest a bold address will win you; If you but in yourself confide, At once confide all others in you. To lead the women, learn the special feeling! Their everlasting aches and groans, In thousand tones, Have all one source, one mode of healing; And if your acts are half discreet, You’ll always have them at your feet. A title first must draw and interest them, And show that yours all other arts exceeds; Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them, While, thus to do, for years another pleads. You press and count the pulse’s dances, And then, with burning sidelong glances, You clasp the swelling hips, to see If tightly laced her corsets be.
That’s better, now! The How and Where, one sees. My worthy friend, gray are all theories, And green alone Life’s golden tree. I swear to you, ’tis like a dream to me. Might I again presume, with trust unbounded, To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded? Most willingly, to what extent I may. I cannot really go away: Allow me that my album first I reach you,— Grant me this favor, I beseech you! Assuredly. (_He writes, and returns the book_.) STUDENT (_reads_) _Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum_. (_Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws_) Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered to trample! With all thy likeness to God, thou’lt yet be a sorry example! (FAUST _enters_.) Now, whither shall we go? As best it pleases thee. The little world, and then the great, we’ll see. With what delight, what profit winning, Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning! Yet with the flowing beard I wear, Both ease and grace will fail me there. The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife; I never could learn the ways of life. I feel so small before others, and thence Should always find embarrassments. My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving: Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living! How shall we leave the house, and start? Where hast thou servant, coach and horses?
We’ll spread this cloak with proper art, Then through the air direct our courses. But only, on so bold a flight, Be sure to have thy luggage light. A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us, Above the earth will nimbly bear us, And, if we’re light, we’ll travel swift and clear: I gratulate thee on thy new career! Is no one laughing? no one drinking? I’ll teach you how to grin, I’m thinking. To-day you’re like wet straw, so tame; And usually you’re all aflame. Now that’s your fault; from you we nothing see, No beastliness and no stupidity. (_Pours a glass of wine over_ BRANDER’S _head_.) There’s both together! Twice a swine! You wanted them: I’ve given you mine. Turn out who quarrels—out the door! With open throat sing chorus, drink and roar! Up! holla! ho! Woe’s me, the fearful bellow! Bring cotton, quick! He’s split my ears, that fellow. When the vault echoes to the song, One first perceives the bass is deep and strong. Well said! and out with him that takes the least offence! _Ah, tara, lara da_! _Ah, tara, lara, da_! The throats are tuned, commence! (_Sings_.) _The dear old holy Roman realm, How does it hold together_? A nasty song! Fie! a political song— A most offensive song! Thank God, each morning, therefore, That you have not the Roman realm to care for! At least, I hold it so much gain for me, That I nor Chancellor nor Kaiser be. Yet also we must have a ruling head, I hope, And so we’ll choose ourselves a Pope. You know the quality that can Decide the choice, and elevate the man. FROSCH (_sings_) _Soar up, soar up, Dame Nightingale! Ten thousand times my sweetheart hail!_ No, greet my sweetheart not! I tell you, I’ll resent it. My sweetheart greet and kiss! I dare you to prevent it! (_Sings_.) _Draw the latch! the darkness makes: Draw the latch! the lover wakes. Shut the latch! the morning breaks_.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.