The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - LightNovelsOnl.com
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MARGARET
I am no lady, am not fair, Can without escort home repair.
_[She disengages herself and exit._]
FAUST
By heaven! This girl is fair indeed!
No form like hers can I recall.
Virtue she hath, and modest heed, Is piquant too, and sharp withal.
Her cheek's soft light, her rosy lips, No length of time will e'er eclipse!
Her downward glance in pa.s.sing by, Deep in my heart is stamp'd for aye; How curt and sharp her answer too, To ecstasy the feeling grew!
[MEPHISTOPHELES _enters._]
FAUST
This girl must win for me! Dost hear?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Which?
FAUST
She who but now pa.s.sed.
MEPHISTOPHELES
What! She?
She from confession cometh here, From every sin absolved and free; I crept near the confessor's chair.
All innocence her virgin soul, For next to nothing went she there; O'er such as she I've no control!
[Ill.u.s.tration: MARGARET _From the Painting by Wilhelm von Kaulbach_]
FAUST
She's past fourteen.
MEPHISTOPHELES You really talk Like any gay Lothario, Who every floweret from its stalk Would pluck, and deems nor grace, nor truth, Secure against his arts, forsooth!
This ne'er the less won't always do.
FAUST
Sir Moralizer, prithee, pause; Nor plague me with your tiresome laws!
To cut the matter short, my friend, She must this very night be mine,-- And if to help me you decline, Midnight shall see our compact end.
MEPHISTOPHELES
What may occur just bear in mind!
A fortnight's s.p.a.ce, at least, I need, A fit occasion but to find.
FAUST
With but seven hours I could succeed; Nor should I want the devil's wile, So young a creature to beguile.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Like any Frenchman now you speak, But do not fret, I pray; why seek To hurry to enjoyment straight?
The pleasure is not half so great, As when at first, around, above, With all the fooleries of love, The puppet you can knead and mold As in Italian story oft is told.
FAUST
No such incentives, do I need.
MEPHISTOPHELES
But now, without offence or jest!
You cannot quickly, I protest, In winning this sweet child succeed.
By storm we cannot take the fort, To stratagem we must resort.
FAUST
Conduct me to her place of rest!
Some token of the angel bring!
A kerchief from her snowy breast, A garter bring me--any thing!
MEPHISTOPHELES
That I my anxious zeal may prove, Your pangs to soothe and aid your love, A single moment will we not delay, Will lead you to her room this very day.
FAUST
And shall I see her?--Have her?
MEPHISTOPHELES No!
She to a neighbor's house will go; But in her atmosphere alone The tedious hours meanwhile you may employ In blissful dreams of future joy.
FAUST
Can we go now?
MEPHISTOPHELES
'Tis yet too soon.
FAUST
Some present for my love procure! [_Exit._]
