FAUST.

THE STREET.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

FAUST.

How goes it,get you on,-will't soon be done?

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Ah, bravo! now I find you in a flame; In a short time will Margaret be your own.

To-night we'll meet her with the worthy dame. In truth, it is a woman ready made,

For such like

procuress and gypsy trade.

FAUST.

'Tis good!

MEPHISTOPHELES.

But we in turn must something do.

FAUST.

Well, one good turn deserves another too.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

A formal deposition we must make,

That her lord's limbs, outstretched, are to be found In Padua, in consecrated ground.

FAUST.

How wise; and what a journey we must take.

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Sancta simplicitas! no need for doing so ;
We prove all easily, although we little know.

FAUST.

Hast thou no better way, 'tis our plan's overthrow.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Oh, holy man! How innocent we are!

Is't the first time that you false witness bear?
Have you not given, with all authority,
Full definition of the Deity;

And of the world, and all that stirs therein;

Of man, what in his head, heart moves about?

All with undaunted breast, unshrinking mein.

And now, to search the matter right throughout, Have you of them, the simple truth to own,

As much as of this death of Schwerdtlein's known?

FAUST.

Sophist and liar thou art, and wilt lie ever on.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Yes, if one knew not something deeper yet.
Will you not, in all honour, seeming fair,
Befool to-morrow the poor Margaret,

And love from your whole soul to her will swear?

FAUST.

And from my heart in truth.

MEPHISTOPHEles.

Ay, very well.

Then talk you of eternal love and truth; One all absorbing, all o'ermastering spell;

Will that, Sir, come from out your heart in sooth?

FAUST.

Enough, it will; when in my heart's deep core,
I feel, and for the feeling, for the thrill,
Seek for a name, and seek all vainly still,
Then through the world with all my senses soar,
Grasp at the loftiest words of all;

And then this glow that wraps my soul in fire,

Unending, aye, eternal, call;

Is that the devilish mockery of a liar?

MEPHISTOPHELES.

Yet am I right.

FAUST.

Listen, mark what I say

I beg of thee, my lungs not to distress;
Who will be in the right, and doth possess
A tongue, will certainly have his own way.
I am weary of this gossipry,

But come,

Thou in the right must be, from my necessity.

GARDEN.

MARGARET on FAUST's arm. MARTHA and MEPHISTOPHELES walking backwards and forwards.

MARGARET.

You are but trifling with me, well I know,
To make me blush, yourself let down so low.
A traveller is so accustomed still,

'Stead of the deed to put up with the will.
I know full well, a man of such attainment
In my poor talk can find small entertainment.

FAUST.

A glance, a word from thee, delights me more, Far more, than all this world's profoundest lore. [He kisses her hand.

MARGARET.

Plague yourself not; what pleasure can it be
To kiss it? 'tis so hideous, is so rough.

What have I not to do with every kind of stuff? My mother is indeed too hard on me.

[They pass over.