Scene XVI. Martha's Garden

MARTHA'S GARDEN

MARGARET FAUST

MARGARETPromise me, Henry!—

MARGARETHow is't with thy religion, pray? Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, And yet, I think, dost not incline that way.

FAUSTLeave that, my child! Thou know'st my love is tender; For love, my blood and life would I surrender, And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his own.

MARGARETThat's not enough: we must believe thereon.

FAUSTMust we?

MARGARETThen, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments.

FAUSTI honor them.

MARGARET'Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to confession. Believest thou in God?

FAUST"I believe in God!" to say? Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, And it will seem a mocking play, A sarcasm on the asker.

FAUSTHear me not falsely, sweetest countenance! 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.

MARGARETAll that is fine and good, to hear it so: Much the same way the preacher spoke, Only with slightly different phrases.

FAUSTThe 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?

MARGARETTo hear it thus, it may seem passable; And yet, some hitch in't there must be For thou hast no Christianity.

FAUSTDear love!

MARGARETI've long been grieved to see That thou art in such company.

FAUSTHow so?

MARGARETWithin 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.

FAUSTNay, fear him not, my sweetest one!

MARGARETI 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!

FAUSTThere must be such queer birds, however.

MARGARETLive 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.

FAUSTForeboding angel that thou art!

MARGARETIt 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.

FAUSTThere, now, is thine antipathy!

MARGARETBut I must go.

FAUSTA quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted, With breast to breast, and soul to soul united?

MARGARETAh, 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!

FAUSTThou 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.

MARGARETWhat would I not, to give thee pleasure? It will not harm her, when one tries it?

FAUSTIf 'twould, my love, would I advise it?

MARGARETAh, 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.

MEPHISTOPHELESThe monkey! Is she gone?

MEPHISTOPHELESI'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.

FAUSTThou, 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!

MEPHISTOPHELESThou, full of sensual, super-sensual desire, A girl by the nose is leading thee.

FAUSTAbortion, thou, of filth and fire!

MEPHISTOPHELESAnd 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—?

MEPHISTOPHELESYet my delight 'twill also be!