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A GARDEN
MARGARET on FAUST'S arm. MARTHA with
MEPHISTOPHELES walking up and down.
MARGARET
I feel it, you but spare my ignorance,
The gentleman to shame me stoops thus low.
A traveller from complaisance,
Still makes the best of things; I know
Too well, my humble prattle never can
Have power to entertain so wise a man.
FAUST
One glance, one word from thee doth charm me more,
Than the world's wisdom or the sage's lore.
(He kisses her hand.)
MARGARET
Nay! trouble not yourself! A hand so coarse,
So rude as mine, how can you kiss!
What constant work at home must I not do perforce!
My mother too exacting is.
(They pass on.)
MARTHA
Thus, sir, unceasing travel is your lot?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Traffic and duty urge us! With what pain
Are we compelled to leave full many a spot,
Where yet we dare not once remain!
MARTU A
In youth's wild years, with vigour crown'd,
'Tis not amiss thus through the world to sweep;
But ah, the evil days come round!
And to a lonely grave as bachelor to creep,
A pleasant thing has no one found.
MEPHISTOPHELES
The prospect fills me with dismay.
MARTHA
Therefore in time, dear sir, reflect, I pray.
(They pass on.)
MARGARET
Ay, out of sight is out of mind!
Politeness easy is to you;
Friends everywhere, and not a few,
Wiser than I am, you will find.
FAUST
O dearest, trust me, what doth pass for sense
Full oft is self-conceit and blindness!
MARGARET
How?
FAUST
Simplicity and holy innocence,--
When will ye learn your hallow'ed worth to know!
Ah, when will meekness and humility,
Kind and all-bounteous nature's loftiest dower--
MARGARET
Only one little moment think of me!
To think of you I shall have many an hour.
FAUST
You are perhaps much alone?
MARGARET
Yes, small our household is, I own,
Yet must I see to it. No maid we keep,
And I must cook, sew, knit, and Sweep,
Still early on my feet and late;
My mothcr is in all things, great and small,
So accurate!
Not that for thrift there is such pressing need;
Than others we might make more show indeed;
My father left behind a small estate,
A house and garden near the city-wall.
But fairly quiet now my days, I own;
As soldier is my brother gone;
My little sister's dead; the babe to rear
Occasion'cl me some care and fond annoy;
But I would go through all again with joy,
The darling was to mc so dear.
FAUST
An angel, sweet, if it resembled thee!
MARGARET
I reared it up, and it grew fond of me.
After my father's death it saw the day;
We gave my mother up for lost, she lay
In such a wretched plight, and then at length
So very slowly she regain'd her strength.
Weak as she was, 'twas vain for her to try
Herself to suckle the poor babe, so I
Reared it on milk and water all alone;
And thus the child became as 'twere roy own;
Within my arms it stretched itself and grew,
And smiling, nestled in my bosom too.
FAUST
Doubtless the purest happiness was thine.
MARGARET
But many weary hours, in sooth, were also mine.
At night its little cradle stood
Close to my bed; so was I wide awake
If it but stirred;
One while I was obliged to give it food,
Or to my arms the darling take;
From bed full oft must rise, whene'er its cry I heard,
And, dancing it. must pace the chamber to and fro;
Stand at the wash-tub early; forthwith go
To market, and then mind the cooking too--
To-morrow like to-day, the whole year through.
Ah, sir, thus living, it must be confess'd
One's spirits are not always of the best;
Yet it a relish gives to food and rest.
(They pass on.)
MARTHA
Poor women! we are badly off, I own;
A bachelor's conversion's hard, indeed!
MEPHISTOPHELES
Madam, with one like you it rests alone,
To tutor me a better course to lead.
MARTHA
Speak frankly, sir, none is there you have met?
Has your heart ne'er attach'd itself as yet?
MEPHISTOPHELES
One's own fire-side and a good wife are gold
And pearls of price, so says the proverb old.
MARTHA
I mean, has passion never stirred your breast?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I've everywhere been well received, I own.
MARTHA
Yet hath your heart no earnest preference known?
MEPHISTOPHELES
With ladies one should ne'er presume to jest.
MARTHA
Ah! you mistake!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I'm sorry I'm so blind!
But this I know--that you are very kind.
(They pass on.)
FAUST
Me, little angel, didst thou recognise,
When in the garden first I came?
MARGARET
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
FAUST
Thou dost forgive my boldness, dost not blame
The liberty I took that day,
When thou from church didst lately wend thy way?
MARGARET
I was confused. So had it never been;
No one of me could any evil say.
Alas, thought I, he doubtless in thy mien,
Something unmaidenly or bold hath seen?
It seemed as if it struck him suddenly,
Here's just a girl with whom one may make free!
Yet I must own that then I scarcely knew
What in your favour here began at once to plead;
Yet I was angry with myself indeed,
That I more angry could not feel with you.
FAUST
Sweet love!
MARGARET
Just wait awhile!
(She gathers a star-flower and plucks off the leaves one after
another.)
FAUST
A nosegay may that be?
MARGARET
No! It is but a game.
FAUST
How?
MARGARET
Go, you'll laugh at me!
(She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself.)
FAUST
What murmurest thou?
MARGARET (half aloud)'
He loves me--loves me not.
FAUST
Sweet angel, with thy face of heavenly bliss!
MARGARET (continues)
He loves me--not--he loves me--not--
(Plucking off the last leaf with fond joy.)
He loves me!
FAUST
Yes!
And this flower-language, darling, let it be,
A heavenly oracle! He loveth thee!
Know'st thou the meaning of, He loveth thee?
(He seizes both her hands.)
MARGARET
I tremble so!
FAUST
Nay! Do not tremble, love!
Let this hand-pressure, let this glance reveal
Feelings, all power of speech above;
To give oneself up wholly and to feel
A joy that must eternal prove!
Eternal !--Yes, its end would be despair.
No end !--It cannot end!
(MARGARET presses his hand, estricates herself,
and runs away. He stands a moment in thought, and then follows
her.)
MARTHA (approaching)
Night's closing.
MEPHISTOPHELES
Yes, we'll presently away.
MARTHA
I would entreat you longer yet to stay;
But 'tis a wicked place, just here about;
It is as if the folk had nothing else to do,
Nothing to think of too,
But gaping watch their neighbours, who goes in and out;
And scandal's busy still, do whatsoe'er one may.
And our young couple?
MEPHISTOPHELES
They have flown up there.
The wanton butterflies!
MARTHA
He seems to take to her.
MEPHISTOPHELES
And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!
Content of A GARDEN [Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's play/drama: Faust Part 1]
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