corpse. Your heart will sink within you when they look you in the face. You will wear no golden chain again! No more will you stand at the altar in the cnurch, or take pride in a fair lace collar at the dance. You will hide yourself in some dark, miserable corner, amongst beggars and cripples, and, even should God forgive you, be cursed upon earth! MARTHA. Commend your soul to God's mercy. Will you yet heap the sin of slander upon your soul? VALENTINE. Could I but get at thy withered body, thou shameless bawd, I should hope to find a full measure of pardon for all my sins! MARGARET. My brother! Oh, this agonizing pang! VALENTINE. Have done with tears, I tell you. When you renounced honor, you gave me the deepest heartstab of all. I go through death's sleep unto God, a soldier and a brave one. (He dies.) CATHEDRAL. SERVICE, ORGAN, AND ANTHEM. MARGARET amongst a number of People. EVIL SPIRIT behind MARGARET.131 EVIL SPIRIT. How different was it with thee, Margaret When still full of innocence Thou camest to the altar there Out of the well-worn little book, Lispedst prayers, Half child-sport, Half God in the heart! Margaret! Where is thy head? In thy heart What crime? Prayest thou for thy mother's soul - who Slept over into long, long pain through thee! Would that I were free from the thoughts That come over and across me Despite of me! EVIL SPIRIT. Hide thyself! Sin and shame Air? Light? Woe to thee! CHORUS. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? EVIL SPIRIT. The glorified from thee Avert their faces. The pure shudder To reach thee their hands. Woe! CHORUS. Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? MARGARET. Neighbor; your smelling-bottle! (She swoons away.) MAY-DAY NIGHT. THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. District of Schirke and Elend.13 FAUST; MEPHISTOPHELES. Mephistopheles. Do you not long for a broomstick? For my part, I should be glad of the roughest he-goat. By this road we are still far from our destination. FAUST. So long as I feel fresh upon my legs, this knotted stick suffices me. What is the use of shortening the way? To creep along the labyrinth of the vales, and then ascend these rocks, from which the ever-bubbling spring precipitates itself,- this is the pleasure which gives zest to such a path. The spring is already weaving in the birch trees, and even the pine is beginning to feel it, - ought it not to have some effect upon our limbs ? MEPHISTOPHELES. Verily, I feel nothing of it. All is wintry in my body, and I should prefer frost and snow upon my path. How melancholy the imperfect disk of the red moon rises with belated glare! and gives so bad a light, that, at every step, one runs against a tree or a rock. With your leave, I will call a will-o'the-wisp. I see one yonder, burning right merrily. Holloa, there, my friend! may |