Too old to play with passion. too young to be without desire

Faust

A knock? Come in! Again my quiet broken?

Mephistopheles

’Tis I!

Faust

   Come in!

Mephistopheles

   Thrice must the words be spoken.

Faust

Come in, then!

Mephistopheles

      Thus thou pleasest me.

I hope we’ll suit each other well;

For now, thy vapors to dispel,

I come, a squire of high degree,

In scarlet coat, with golden trimming,

A cloak in silken lustre swimming,

A tall cock’s-feather in my hat,

A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel —

And I advise thee, brief and flat,

To don the self-same gay apparel,

That, from this den released, and free,

Life be at last revealed to thee!

Faust

This life of earth, whatever my attire,
Would pain me in its wonted fashion.
Too old am I to play with passion;
Too young, to be without desire.
What from the world have I to gain?
Thou shalt abstain — renounce — refrain!
Such is the everlasting song
That in the ears of all men rings —
That unrelieved, our whole life long,
Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings.
In very terror I at morn awake,
Upon the verge of bitter weeping,
To see the day of disappointment break,
To no one hope of mine — not one — its promise keeping:—
That even each joy’s presentiment
With wilful cavil would diminish,
With grinning masks of life prevent
My mind its fairest work to finish!
Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously
Upon my couch of sleep I lay me:
There, also, comes no rest to me,
But some wild dream is sent to fray me.
The God that in my breast is owned
Can deeply stir the inner sources;
The God, above my powers enthroned,
He cannot change external forces.
So, by the burden of my days oppressed,
Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest!

Mephistopheles

And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest.

Faust

O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,
The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!
Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,
In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!
O would that I, before that spirit-power,
Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken!

Mephistopheles

And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour,
A certain liquid was not drunken.

Faust

Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be.

Mephistopheles

Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me.

Faust

Though some familiar tone, retrieving
My thoughts from torment, led me on,
And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving
A faith bequeathed from Childhood’s dawn,
Yet now I curse whate’er entices
And snares the soul with visions vain;
With dazzling cheats and dear devices
Confines it in this cave of pain!
Cursed be, at once, the high ambition
Wherewith the mind itself deludes!
Cursed be the glare of apparition
That on the finer sense intrudes!
Cursed be the lying dream’s impression
Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow!
Cursed, all that flatters as possession,
As wife and child, as knave and plow!
Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures
To restless action spurs our fate!
Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures,
He lays for us the pillows straight!
Cursed be the vine’s transcendent nectar —
The highest favor Love lets fall!
Cursed, also, Hope! — cursed Faith, the spectre!
And cursed be Patience most of all!

Chorus of Spirits(invisible)

Woe! woe!

Thou hast it destroyed,

The beautiful world,

With powerful fist:

In ruin ’tis hurled,

By the blow of a demigod shattered!

The scattered

Fragments into the Void we carry,

Deploring

The beauty perished beyond restoring.

Mightier

For the children of men,

Brightlier

Build it again,

In thine own bosom build it anew!

Bid the new career

Commence,

With clearer sense,

And the new songs of cheer

Be sung thereto!

Mephistopheles

These are the small dependants
Who give me attendance.
Hear them, to deeds and passion
Counsel in shrewd old-fashion!
Into the world of strife,
Out of this lonely life
That of senses and sap has betrayed thee,
They would persuade thee.
This nursing of the pain forego thee,
That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast!
The worst society thou find’st will show thee
Thou art a man among the rest.
But ’tis not meant to thrust
Thee into the mob thou hatest!
I am not one of the greatest,
Yet, wilt thou to me entrust
Thy steps through life, I’ll guide thee —
Will willingly walk beside thee —
Will serve thee at once and forever
With best endeavor,
And, if thou art satisfied,
Will as servant, slave, with thee abide.

Faust

And what shall be my counter-service therefor?

Mephistopheles

The time is long: thou need’st not now insist.

Faust

No — no! The Devil is an egotist,
And is not apt, without a why or wherefore,
“For God’s sake,” others to assist.
Speak thy conditions plain and clear!
With such a servant danger comes, I fear.

Mephistopheles

Here, an unwearied slave, I’ll wear thy tether,
And to thine every nod obedient be:
When There again we come together,
Then shalt thou do the same for me.

Faust

The There my scruples naught increases.
When thou hast dashed this world to pieces,
The other, then, its place may fill.
Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources;
Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses;
And when from these my life itself divorces,
Let happen all that can or will!
I’ll hear no more: ’tis vain to ponder
If there we cherish love or hate,
Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder,
A High and Low our souls await.

Mephistopheles

In this sense, even, canst thou venture.
Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture,
And thou mine arts with joy shalt see:
What no man ever saw, I’ll give to thee.

Faust

Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?
When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor,
E’er understood by such as thou?
Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now —
The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,
That runs, quicksilver-like, one’s fingers through —
A game whose winnings no man ever knew —
A maid that, even from my breast,
Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,
And Honor’s godlike zest,
The meteor that a moment dances —
Show me the fruits that, ere they’re gathered, rot,
And trees that daily with new leafage clothe them!

Mephistopheles

Such a demand alarms me not:
Such treasures have I, and can show them.
But still the time may reach us, good my friend.
When peace we crave and more luxurious diet.

Faust

When on an idler’s bed I stretch myself in quiet.
There let, at once, my record end!
Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,
Until, self-pleased, myself I see —
Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,
Let that day be the last for me!
The bet I offer.