No More Learning

Here lay the child, when life's fresh heavings
Its tender bosom first made warm,
And here with pure, mysterious weavings
The spirit wrought its godlike form!
And thou! What brought thee here? what power
Stirs in my deepest soul this hour?
What wouldst thou here? What makes thy heart so sore?
Unhappy Faust! I know thee thus no more.
Breathe I a magic atmosphere?
The will to enjoy how strong I felt it,--
And in a dream of love am now all melted!
Are we the sport of every puff of air?
And if she suddenly should enter now,
How would she thy presumptuous folly humble!
Big John-o'dreams! ah, how wouldst thou
Sink at her feet, collapse and crumble!

_Mephistopheles_. Quick, now! She comes! I'm looking at her.

_Faust_. Away! Away! O cruel fate!

_Mephistopheles_. Here is a box of moderate weight;
I got it somewhere else--no matter!
Just shut it up, here, in the press,
I swear to you, 'twill turn her senses;
I meant the trifles, I confess,
To scale another fair one's fences.
True, child is child and play is play.

_Faust_. Shall I? I know not.

_Mephistopheles_. Why delay?
You mean perhaps to keep the bauble?
If so, I counsel you to spare
From idle passion hours so fair,
And me, henceforth, all further trouble.
I hope you are not avaricious!
I rub my hands, I scratch my head--
[_He places the casket in the press and locks it up again_. ]
(Quick! Time we sped! )--
That the dear creature may be led
And moulded by your will and wishes;
And you stand here as glum,
As one at the door of the auditorium,
As if before your eyes you saw
In bodily shape, with breathless awe,
Metaphysics and physics, grim and gray!
Away!
[_Exit_. ]

_Margaret [with a lamp_]. It seems so close, so sultry here.
[_She opens the window_. ]
Yet it isn't so very warm out there,
I feel--I know not how--oh dear!
I wish my mother 'ld come home, I declare!
I feel a shudder all over me crawl--
I'm a silly, timid thing, that's all!
[_She begins to sing, while undressing_. ]
There was a king in Thule,
To whom, when near her grave,
The mistress he loved so truly
A golden goblet gave.

He cherished it as a lover,
He drained it, every bout;
His eyes with tears ran over,
As oft as he drank thereout.

And when he found himself dying,
His towns and cities he told;
Naught else to his heir denying
Save only the goblet of gold.

His knights he straightway gathers
And in the midst sate he,
In the banquet hall of the fathers
In the castle over the sea.

There stood th' old knight of liquor,
And drank the last life-glow,
Then flung the holy beaker
Into the flood below.

He saw it plunging, drinking
And sinking in the roar,
His eyes in death were sinking,
He never drank one drop more.
[_She opens the press, to put away her clothes,
and discovers the casket_. ]

How in the world came this fine casket here?
I locked the press, I'm very clear.
I wonder what's inside! Dear me! it's very queer!
Perhaps 'twas brought here as a pawn,
In place of something mother lent.
Here is a little key hung on,
A single peep I shan't repent!
What's here? Good gracious! only see!
I never saw the like in my born days!
On some chief festival such finery
Might on some noble lady blaze.
How would this chain become my neck!
Whose may this splendor be, so lonely?
[_She arrays herself in it, and steps before the glass_. ]
Could I but claim the ear-rings only!
A different figure one would make.
What's beauty worth to thee, young blood!
May all be very well and good;
What then? 'Tis half for pity's sake
They praise your pretty features.
Each burns for gold,
All turns on gold,--
Alas for us! poor creatures!




PROMENADE.


FAUST [_going up and down in thought_. ] MEPHISTOPHELES _to him_.

_Mephistopheles_. By all that ever was jilted! By all the infernal fires!
I wish I knew something worse, to curse as my heart desires!

_Faust_. What griping pain has hold of thee?
Such grins ne'er saw I in the worst stage-ranter!

_Mephistopheles_. Oh, to the devil I'd give myself instanter,
If I were not already he!

_Faust_. Some pin's loose in your head, old fellow!
That fits you, like a madman thus to bellow!

_Mephistopheles_. Just think, the pretty toy we got for Peg,
A priest has hooked, the cursed plague I--
The thing came under the eye of the mother,
And caused her a dreadful internal pother:
The woman's scent is fine and strong;
Snuffles over her prayer-book all day long,
And knows, by the smell of an article, plain,
Whether the thing is holy or profane;
And as to the box she was soon aware
There could not be much blessing there.
"My child," she cried, "unrighteous gains
Ensnare the soul, dry up the veins.
We'll consecrate it to God's mother,
She'll give us some heavenly manna or other! "
Little Margaret made a wry face; "I see
'Tis, after all, a gift horse," said she;
"And sure, no godless one is he
Who brought it here so handsomely. "
The mother sent for a priest (they're cunning);
Who scarce had found what game was running,
When he rolled his greedy eyes like a lizard,
And, "all is rightly disposed," said he,
"Who conquers wins, for a certainty.
The church has of old a famous gizzard,
She calls it little whole lands to devour,
Yet never a surfeit got to this hour;
The church alone, dear ladies; _sans_ question,
Can give unrighteous gains digestion. "

_Faust_. That is a general pratice, too,
Common alike with king and Jew.

_Mephistopheles_. Then pocketed bracelets and chains and rings
As if they were mushrooms or some such things,
With no more thanks, (the greedy-guts! )
Than if it had been a basket of nuts,
Promised them all sorts of heavenly pay--
And greatly edified were they.

_Faust_. And Margery?

_Mephistopheles_. Sits there in distress,
And what to do she cannot guess,
The jewels her daily and nightly thought,
And he still more by whom they were brought.

_Faust. _ My heart is troubled for my pet.
Get her at once another set!
The first were no great things in their way.

_Mephistopheles. _ O yes, my gentleman finds all child's play!

_Faust. _ And what I wish, that mind and do!
Stick closely to her neighbor, too.
Don't be a devil soft as pap,
And fetch me some new jewels, old chap!

_Mephistopheles. _ Yes, gracious Sir, I will with pleasure.
[_Exit_ FAUST. ]
Such love-sick fools will puff away
Sun, moon, and stars, and all in the azure,
To please a maiden's whimsies, any day.
[_Exit. _]




THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE.


MARTHA [_alone]. _
My dear good man--whom God forgive!
He has not treated me well, as I live!
Right off into the world he's gone
And left me on the straw alone.
I never did vex him, I say it sincerely,
I always loved him, God knows how dearly.
[_She weeps_. ]
Perhaps he's dead! --O cruel fate! --
If I only had a certificate!

_Enter_ MARGARET.
Dame Martha!

_Martha_. What now, Margery?

_Margaret_. I scarce can keep my knees from sinking!
Within my press, again, not thinking,
I find a box of ebony,
With things--can't tell how grand they are,--
More splendid than the first by far.

_Martha_. You must not tell it to your mother,
She'd serve it as she did the other.

_Margaret_. Ah, only look! Behold and see!

_Martha [puts them on her_]. Fortunate thing! I envy thee!

_Margaret. _ Alas, in the street or at church I never
Could be seen on any account whatever.

_Martha. _ Come here as often as you've leisure,
And prink yourself quite privately;
Before the looking-glass walk up and down at pleasure,
Fine times for both us 'twill be;
Then, on occasions, say at some great feast,
Can show them to the world, one at a time, at least.
A chain, and then an ear-pearl comes to view;
Your mother may not see, we'll make some pretext, too.

_Margaret. _ Who could have brought both caskets in succession?
There's something here for just suspicion!
[_A knock. _ ]
Ah, God! If that's my mother--then!

_Martha_ [_peeping through the blind_].
'Tis a strange gentleman--come in!

[_Enter_ MEPHISTOPHELES. ]
Must, ladies, on your kindness reckon
To excuse the freedom I have taken;
[_Steps back with profound respect at seeing_ MARGARET. ]
I would for Dame Martha Schwerdtlein inquire!

_Martha. _ I'm she, what, sir, is your desire?

_Mephistopheles_ [_aside to her_]. I know your face, for now 'twill do;
A distinguished lady is visiting you.
For a call so abrupt be pardon meted,
This afternoon it shall be repeated.

_Martha [aloud]. _ For all the world, think, child! my sakes!
The gentleman you for a lady takes.

_Margaret_. Ah, God! I am a poor young blood;
The gentleman is quite too good;
The jewels and trinkets are none of my own.

_Mephistopheles_. Ah, 'tis not the jewels and trinkets alone;
Her look is so piercing, so _distingue_!
How glad I am to be suffered to stay.

_Martha_. What bring you, sir? I long to hear--

_Mephistopheles_. Would I'd a happier tale for your ear!
I hope you'll forgive me this one for repeating:
Your husband is dead and sends you a greeting.

_Martha_. Is dead? the faithful heart! Woe! Woe!
My husband dead! I, too, shall go!

_Margaret_. Ah, dearest Dame, despair not thou!

_Mephistopheles_ Then, hear the mournful story now!

_Margaret_. Ah, keep me free from love forever,
I should never survive such a loss, no, never!

_Mephistopheles_. Joy and woe, woe and joy, must have each other.

_Martha_. Describe his closing hours to me!

_Mephistopheles_.
In Padua lies our departed brother,
In the churchyard of St. Anthony,
In a cool and quiet bed lies sleeping,
In a sacred spot's eternal keeping.

_Martha_. And this was all you had to bring me?

_Mephistopheles_. All but one weighty, grave request!
"Bid her, when I am dead, three hundred masses sing me! "
With this I have made a clean pocket and breast.

_Martha_. What! not a medal, pin nor stone?
Such as, for memory's sake, no journeyman will lack,
Saved in the bottom of his sack,
And sooner would hunger, be a pauper--

_Mephistopheles_. Madam, your case is hard, I own!
But blame him not, he squandered ne'er a copper.
He too bewailed his faults with penance sore,
Ay, and his wretched luck bemoaned a great deal more.

_Margaret_. Alas! that mortals so unhappy prove!
I surely will for him pray many a requiem duly.

_Mephistopheles_. You're worthy of a spouse this moment; truly
You are a child a man might love.

_Margaret_. It's not yet time for that, ah no!

_Mephistopheles_. If not a husband, say, meanwhile a beau.
It is a choice and heavenly blessing,
Such a dear thing to one's bosom pressing.

_Margaret_. With us the custom is not so.

_Mephistopheles_. Custom or not! It happens, though.

_Martha_. Tell on!

_Mephistopheles_. I slood beside his bed, as he lay dying,
Better than dung it was somewhat,--
Half-rotten straw; but then, he died as Christian ought,
And found an unpaid score, on Heaven's account-book lying.
"How must I hate myself," he cried, "inhuman!
So to forsake my business and my woman!
Oh! the remembrance murders me!
Would she might still forgive me this side heaven! "

_Martha_ [_weeping_]. The dear good man! he has been long forgiven.

_Mephistopheles_. "But God knows, I was less to blame than she. "

_Martha_. A lie! And at death's door! abominable!

_Mephistopheles_. If I to judge of men half-way am able,
He surely fibbed while passing hence.
"Ways to kill time, (he said)--be sure, I did not need them;
First to get children--and then bread to feed them,
And bread, too, in the widest sense,
And even to eat my bit in peace could not be thought on. "

_Martha_. Has he all faithfulness, all love, so far forgotten,
The drudgery by day and night!

_Mephistopheles_. Not so, he thought of you with all his might.
He said: "When I from Malta went away,
For wife and children my warm prayers ascended;
And Heaven so far our cause befriended,
Our ship a Turkish cruiser took one day,
Which for the mighty Sultan bore a treasure.
Then valor got its well-earned pay,
And I too, who received but my just measure,
A goodly portion bore away. "

_Martha_. How? Where? And he has left it somewhere buried?

_Mephistopheles_. Who knows which way by the four winds 'twas carried?
He chanced to take a pretty damsel's eye,
As, a strange sailor, he through Naples jaunted;
All that she did for him so tenderly,
E'en to his blessed end the poor man haunted.

_Martha_. The scamp! his children thus to plunder!
And could not all his troubles sore
Arrest his vile career, I wonder?

_Mephistopheles_. But mark! his death wipes off the score.
Were I in your place now, good lady;
One year I'd mourn him piously
And look about, meanwhiles, for a new flame already.

_Martha_. Ah, God! another such as he
I may not find with ease on this side heaven!
Few such kind fools as this dear spouse of mine.
Only to roving he was too much given,
And foreign women and foreign wine,
And that accursed game of dice.

_Mephistopheles_. Mere trifles these; you need not heed 'em,
If he, on his part, not o'er-nice,
Winked at, in you, an occasional freedom.
I swear, on that condition, too,
I would, myself, 'change rings with you!

_Martha_. The gentleman is pleased to jest now!

_Mephistopheles [aside_]. I see it's now high time I stirred!
She'd take the very devil at his word.
[_To_ MARGERY. ]
How is it with your heart, my best, now?

_Margaret_. What means the gentleman?

_Mephistopheles. [aside_]. Thou innocent young heart!
[_Aloud_. ]
Ladies, farewell!

_Margaret_. Farewell!

_Martha_. But quick, before we part! --
I'd like some witness, vouching truly
Where, how and when my love died and was buried duly.
I've always paid to order great attention,
Would of his death read some newspaper mention.

_Mephistopheles_. Ay, my dear lady, in the mouths of two
Good witnesses each word is true;
I've a friend, a fine fellow, who, when you desire,
Will render on oath what you require.
I'll bring him here.

_Martha_. O pray, sir, do!

_Mephistopheles_. And this young lady 'll be there too?
Fine boy! has travelled everywhere,
And all politeness to the fair.

_Margaret_. Before him shame my face must cover.

_Mephistopheles_. Before no king the wide world over!

_Martha_. Behind the house, in my garden, at leisure,
We'll wait this eve the gentlemen's pleasure.




STREET.

FAUST. MEPHISTOPHELES.

_Faust_. How now? What progress? Will 't come right?

_Mephistopheles_. Ha, bravo? So you're all on fire?
Full soon you'll see whom you desire.
In neighbor Martha's grounds we are to meet tonight.
That woman's one of nature's picking
For pandering and gipsy-tricking!

_Faust_. So far, so good!

_Mephistopheles_. But one thing we must do.

_Faust_. Well, one good turn deserves another, true.

_Mephistopheles_. We simply make a solemn deposition
That her lord's bones are laid in good condition
In holy ground at Padua, hid from view.

_Faust_. That's wise! But then we first must make the journey thither?

_Mephistopheles. Sancta simplicitas_! no need of such to-do;
Just swear, and ask not why or whether.

_Faust_. If that's the best you have, the plan's not worth a feather.

_Mephistopheles_. O holy man! now that's just you!
In all thy life hast never, to this hour,
To give false witness taken pains?
Have you of God, the world, and all that it contains,
Of man, and all that stirs within his heart and brains,
Not given definitions with great power,
Unscrupulous breast, unblushing brow?
And if you search the matter clearly,
Knew you as much thereof, to speak sincerely,
As of Herr Schwerdtlein's death? Confess it now!

_Faust_. Thou always wast a sophist and a liar.

_Mephistopheles_. Ay, if one did not look a little nigher.
For will you not, in honor, to-morrow
Befool poor Margery to her sorrow,
And all the oaths of true love borrow?

_Faust_. And from the heart, too.

_Mephistopheles_. Well and fair!
Then there'll be talk of truth unending,
Of love o'ermastering, all transcending--
Will every word be heart-born there?

_Faust_. Enough! It will! --If, for the passion
That fills and thrills my being's frame,
I find no name, no fit expression,
Then, through the world, with all my senses, ranging,
Seek what most strongly speaks the unchanging.
And call this glow, within me burning,
Infinite--endless--endless yearning,
Is that a devilish lying game?

_Mephistopheles_. I'm right, nathless!

_Faust_. Now, hark to me--
This once, I pray, and spare my lungs, old fellow--
Whoever _will_ be right, and has a tongue to bellow,
Is sure to be.
But come, enough of swaggering, let's be quit,
For thou art right, because I must submit.




GARDEN.

MARGARET _on_ FAUST'S _arm_. MARTHA _with_ MEPHISTOPHELES.
[_Promenading up and down_. ]

_Margaret_. The gentleman but makes me more confused
With all his condescending goodness.
Men who have travelled wide are used
To bear with much from dread of rudeness;
I know too well, a man of so much mind
In my poor talk can little pleasure find.

_Faust_. One look from thee, one word, delights me more
Than this world's wisdom o'er and o'er.
[_Kisses her hand_. ]

_Margaret_. Don't take that trouble, sir! How could you bear to kiss it?
A hand so ugly, coarse, and rough!
How much I've had to do! must I confess it--
Mother is more than close enough.
[_They pass on_. ]

_Martha_. And you, sir, are you always travelling so?

_Mephistopheles_. Alas, that business forces us to do it!
With what regret from many a place we go,
Though tenderest bonds may bind us to it!

_Martha_. 'Twill do in youth's tumultuous maze
To wander round the world, a careless rover;
But soon will come the evil days,
And then, a lone dry stick, on the grave's brink to hover,
For that nobody ever prays.

_Mephistopheles_. The distant prospect shakes my reason.

_Martha_. Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in season.
[_They pass on_.