XII
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, Clarke, Harry, and Taylor, Bayard
The purest bliss was surely then thy dower.
MARGARET
But surely, also, many a weary hour. I kept the baby’s cradle near My bed at night: if ’t even stirred, I’d guess it, And waking, hear. And I must nurse it, warm beside me press it, And oft, to quiet it, my bed forsake, And dandling back and forth the restless creature take, Then at the wash-tub stand, at morning’s break; And then the marketing and kitchen-tending, Day after day, the same thing, never-ending. One’s spirits, Sir, are thus not always good, But then one learns to relish rest and food.
[They pass.
MARTHA
Yes, the poor women are bad off, ’tis true: A stubborn bachelor there’s no converting.
MEPHISTOPHELES
It but depends upon the like of you, And I should turn to better ways than flirting.
MARTHA
Speak plainly, Sir, have you no one detected? Has not your heart been anywhere subjected?
MEPHISTOPHELES
The proverb says: One’s own warm hearth And a good wife, are gold and jewels worth.
MARTHA
I mean, have you not felt desire, though ne’er so slightly?
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’ve everywhere, in fact, been entertained politely.
MARTHA
I meant to say, were you not touched in earnest, ever?
MEPHISTOPHELES
One should allow one’s self to jest with ladies never.
MARTHA Ah, you don’t understand!
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m sorry I’m so blind: But I am sure—that you are very kind.
[They pass.
FAUST
And me, thou angel! didst thou recognize, As through the garden-gate I came?
MARGARET
Did you not see it? I cast down my eyes.
FAUST
And thou forgiv’st my freedom, and the blame To my impertinence befitting, As the Cathedral thou wert quitting?
MARGARET
I was confused, the like ne’er happened me; No one could ever speak to my discredit. Ah, thought I, in my conduct has he read it— Something immodest or unseemly free? He seemed to have the sudden feeling That with this wench ’twere very easy dealing. I will confess, I knew not what appeal On your behalf, here, in my bosom grew; But I was angry with myself, to feel That I could not be angrier with you.
FAUST
Sweet darling!
MARGARET
Wait a while!
(She plucks a star-flower, and pulls off the leaves, one after the other.)
FAUST
Shall that a nosegay be?
MARGARET