Night. Street before Margaret’s door.

Enter Valentin.

Valentin. When I sat with our merry men, At a carousal, now and then, Where one may be allowed a boast, And my messmates gave toast for toast To the girl they prized the most, And with a bumper then swilled o’er Their praise, when they could praise no more; I’d sit at ease, and lean upon My elbow, while they prated on, Till all the swaggerers had done, And smile and stroke my beard, and fill The goodly rummer to my hand, And say, All that is very well! But is there one, in all the land, That with my Margaret may compare, Or even tie the shoe to her? Rap, rap! cling, clang! so went it round! From man to man, with gleesome sound, And one cried out with lusty breath, “Yes, Gretchen! Gretchen! she’s the girl, Of womanhood the perfect pearl!” And all the braggarts were dumb as death. And now,—the devil’s in the matter! It is enough to make one clatter, Like a rat, along the walls! Shall every boor, with gibe and jeer, Turn up his nose when I appear? And every pettiest word that falls Me, like a purseless debtor, torture? And though I bruised them in a mortar, I could not say that they were wrong.

What comes apace?—what creeps along? A pair of them comes slinking by. If ’tis the man I look for, I Will dust his coat so well he’ll not, By Jove! go living from the spot! [Retires.

Enter Faust and Mephistopheles.

Faust. As from the window of the vestry there, The light of the undying lamp doth glare, And sidewards gleameth, dimmer still and dimmer, Till darkness closes round its fitful glimmer, So murky is it in my soul.

Mephistopheles. And I’ve a qualmish sort of feeling, Like a cat on a rainy day, Creeping round the wall, and stealing Near the fireplace, if it may. Yet am I in most virtuous trim For a small turn at stealing, or at lechery; So jumps already through my every limb Walpurgis-Night, with all its glorious witchery. The day after to-morrow brings again The Feast, with fun and frolic in its train.

Faust. Is it not time that you were raising The treasure there in the distance blazing?

Mephistopheles. Soon shall you sate your eyes with gazing, And lift up from the urn yourself A little mine of precious pelf. I gave it a side-glance before— Saw lion-dollars by the score.

Faust. Is there no gaud?—no jewel at all? To deck my sweet little mistress withal.

Mephistopheles. O yes! I saw some trinkets for the girls,— A sort of necklace strung with pearls.

Faust. ’Tis well that we have this to give her, For empty-handed go I never.

Mephistopheles. And yet a wise man ought to learn To enjoy gratis, as well as to earn. Now, that the stars are bright and clear the sky, I’ll give you a touch of choicest melody; A moral song—that, while we seem to school her, With the more certainty we may befool her. [Sings to the guitar.] Why stands before Her lover’s door, Young Catherine here, At early break of day? Beware, beware! He lets thee in, A maiden in, A maiden not away!

When full it blows, He breaks the rose, And leaves thee then, A wretched outcast thing! Take warning, then, And yield to none But who hath shown, And changed with thee the ring.

Valentin. [advancing] Ho, serenaders! by the Element! You whoreson rascals! you rat-catchers, you! First, to the devil with the instrument, And, after it, the harper too!

Mephistopheles. Donner and blitz! my good guitar is broken!

Valentin. And your skull, too, anon: by this sure token!

Mephistopheles. Quick, Doctor! here’s no time to tarry! Keep close, as I shall lead the way. Out with your goosewing! out, I say! Make you the thrusts, and I will parry.

Valentin. Then parry that!

Mephistopheles. Why not?

Valentin. And that!

Mephistopheles. Of course!

Valentin. I deem the devil is here, or something worse. Good God! what’s this?—my arm is lamed!

Mephistopheles. [to Faust] Have at him there!

Valentin. [falls] O woe!

Mephistopheles. Now is the lubber tamed! But let’s be gone! why stand you gaping there? They’ll raise a cry of murder! I can play A game with the policeman, any day; But blood spilt is a dangerous affair.

[Exeunt Mephistopheles and Faust.

Martha. [at the window] Ho! murder, ho!

Margaret. [at the window] A light! a light!

Martha. [as above] They bawl, they brawl, they strike, they fight.

The People. And here lies one already dead!

Martha. [appearing below] Where are the murderers? are they fled?

Margaret. [below] Who’s this lies here?

The People. Thy mother’s son.

Margaret. Almighty God! my brother dead!

Valentin. I die! I die!—’tis quickly said, And yet more quickly done. Why stand you, women, and weep and wail? Draw near, and listen to my tale! [They all come round him.] My Margaret, mark me, you are young, And in sense not overstrong; You manage matters ill. I tell thee in thine ear, that thou Art, once for all, a strumpet,—now Mayst go and take thy fill.

Margaret. My brother! God! what do you mean?

Valentin. Leave the Lord God out of the jest; Said is said, and done is done; Now you may manage, as you best Know how to help the matter on. You commenced the trade with one, We shall have two, three, four, anon, Next a dozen, and next a score, And then the whole town at your door.

When sin is born it shuns the light (For conscience guilt may not abide it), And they draw the veil of night Over head and ears, to hide it; Yea, they would murder it, if they might. But anon it waxes bolder, And walks about in broad day-light, And, uglier still as it grows older, The less it offers to invite, The more it courts the public sight.

Even now, methinks, I see the day, When every honest citizen, As from a corpse of tainted clay, From thee, thou whore! will turn away. Thy very heart shall fail thee then, When they shall look thee in the face! No more shall golden chain thee grace! The Church shall spurn thee from its door! The altar shall not own thee more! Nor longer, with thy spruce lace-tippet, Where the dance wheels, shalt thou trip it! In some vile den of want and woe, With beggars and cripples thou shalt bed; And, if from Heaven forgiveness flow, Earth shall rain curses on thy head!

Martha. Speak softly, and prepare thy soul for death, Nor mingle slander with thy parting breath!

Valentin. Could I but reach thy withered skin, Thou hag, thou bawd, so vile and shameless! For such fair deed I might pass blameless, To score the black mark from my blackest sin.

Margaret. Brother, thou mak’st me feel a hell of pain!

Valentin. I tell thee, all thy tears are vain! When with thy honor thou didst part, Thou dealt the blow that pierced my heart. I go through death, with fearless mood, To meet my God, as a soldier should. [Dies.