Faust. A common case; a king or Jew
Can the same feat accomplish too.

Meph. Then off he swept chain, clasp, and rings,
As if they were but mushroom things,
And thank'd them neither less nor more
Than if the case of costly sheen

A basketful of nuts had been,
But to them promised o'er and o'er,
All heavenly rewards—whereby
They much, no doubt, might edify.
Faust. And Margaret-
Meph.

In restless plight,

Her heart with nameless wishes fraught,

Thinks on the trinkets day and night,

Still more on him the gems who brought.

Faust. My dear one's grief with sorrow I endure,— Straight, then, for her another set procure!

The first were no such matters.

Meph.

To be sure!

All is but child's play to the gentleman !

Faust. See that you do it, as I wish and plan

Her neighbour you must close beset

Come! don't a milksop devil be,

Another case of jewels get!

Meph. My honour'd sir, most willingly!

Merely for pastime or for play,

To please his mistress all his care,
A lovesick fool thus puffs away
Sun, moon, and stars, into the air!

[FAUST exit.

THE NEIGHBOUR'S HOUSE.

MARTHA alone.

God pardon my dear husband!-he
In truth has not done well by me,-
Away into the world he sped

And left me to a lonely bed!

Though ne'er I vex'd, or teasing moved him,
But, God knows, always dearly loved him!

Perhaps he now is dead-ah me! if so,
O could I but the truth in writing know!
MARGARET enters.

Marg. Martha !

Mar.

Marg.

Well, Margaret!

Oh, think!

My knees almost beneath me sink,

I've found another casket-see-
Placed in my press-'tis ebony !
With jewels absolutely rare,

Far richer than the first ones were.

Mar. Of this your mother must not know,

Or with it to the priest she'll go.

Marg. Here! only look at them-oh see!
Mar. You lucky creature-

Ah, poor me!

Marg.
Wear them abroad, I may not dare,

Nor in them at the church appear.
Mar. Come pretty often then to me
And don the jewels secretly;
In them, you to and fro can pass

[She weeps.

A little hour before the glass,

E'en that will be a kind of treat;
Then some occasion we may meet,
A festival or holiday,

At which your treasure, by degrees,
You might to people's eyes display,

The chain at first, perhaps, then these
Superb pearl ear-rings ;-it may be
Your mother will not mark or see;
Or should she any notice take,
We to her some excuse can make.

Marg. But who could both these caskets bring,
It cannot be an honest thing!

Ah Heaven! can that my mother be?

Mar. No! a strange gentleman, I see;

Come in!

MEPHISTOPHELES enters.

Meph. I've really made so free,

As to come in at once-for which I pray

[A knocking.

The lady's pardon! [Steps back respectfully before MARGARET. -I but came to-day

To speak with Mistress Schwerdtlein

Mar.

What has the gentleman to say to me?

I am she;

Meph. (speaks softly to her). Enough! I know you now -but I perceive

A visitor of rank-I'll take my leave

Excuse the liberty I now have ta’en,

And in the afternoon I'll call again!

Mar. Imagine, child! this stranger here-of all

The things on earth, does you a lady call!

Marg. I'm but a poor young creature-he

(Ah, Heaven!) is too polite to me! Nor gems nor jewels are my own

Meph. 'Tis not the ornaments alone;
Her striking mien and look attention gain,
How happy am I that I dare remain !

Mar. What bring you then? I long to hear.
Meph. I would my tidings better were!
I trust that for the gloom it lends,

I shall not here a sufferer be,
Your husband, he is dead, and sends
To you his greetings thus by me.
Mar. Is dead!-dear soul! alas and woe!
My husband dead-I shall die too!
Marg. Despair not, my dear Martha, so !
Meph. But hear the dreary story through.
Marg. Ah! for this reason is it, I would not
Wish that to love should ever be my lot;
For sure, my loss, if e'er he died,

My life with grieving would destroy!
Meph. Joy must be still to sorrow tied,
And sorrow must be link'd with joy.
Mar. Tell me his life's last close!

At Padua, he

Meph.
Lies in the churchyard of Saint Antony,
A place well consecrated-duly blest,

Cool everlastingly his bed of rest.

Mar. And had you nothing else to me to bring?
Meph. Oh yes! a heavy prayer, and a request,
You would for him three hundred masses sing.

But with respect to all beside,

My pockets are completely void!

Mar. What! not a token! not a coin!

Not e'en a trinket to be mine!

Such as each poor mechanic hoards

I' the bottom of his purse with care, Because remembrance it affords

And rather starves or begs, than spare!

Meph. Ah, madam! to the heart it grieveth me, But still his wealth he did not dissipate;

He all his sins repented bitterly,—

Ay, and bewail'd still more his luckless fate.
Marg. Alas! alas! that men should e'er
By such misfortune be opprest!
Indeed I'll pray with many a prayer
And many a requiem for his rest.
Meph. Ah, you deserve indeed to find
A husband soon-you are so kind,
So amiable-affectionate !

Marg. Oh no! 'tis time enough to wait!
Meph. If then a husband be not given,
A lover you meanwhile may gain,—

It were the highest gift of Heaven,

So sweet a thing within one's arms to strain.

Marg. That's not the custom here, sir.
Meph.

Custom or not-'twill happen though!

Mar. But tell me

Meph.

Yes! I stood beside

Oh !

His death-bed when your husband died.
His couch was better than mere dung-
Half-rotten straw beneath him flung ;—
Still he a Christian died-though finding more
Against him than he thought upon the score:
"How deeply must I hate myself," he cried,
"So to have left my trade-my wife beside!