Part 18

When on an idler’s bed I stretch myself in quiet. There let, at once, my record end! Canst thou with lying flattery rule me, Until, self-pleased, myself I see,— Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me, Let that day be the last for me! The bet I offer.

MEPHISTOPHELES Done!

FAUST And heartily! When thus I hail the Moment flying: “Ah, still delay—thou art so fair!” Then bind me in thy bonds undying, My final ruin then declare! Then let the death-bell chime the token. Then art thou from thy service free! The clock may stop, the hand be broken, Then Time be finished unto me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Consider well: my memory good is rated.

FAUST

Thou hast a perfect right thereto. My powers I have not rashly estimated: A slave am I, whate’er I do— If thine, or whose? ’tis needless to debate it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Then at the Doctors’-banquet I, to-day, Will as a servant wait behind thee. But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee, Give me a line or two, I pray.

FAUST

Demand’st thou, Pedant, too, a document? Hast never known a man, nor proved his word’s intent? Is’t not enough, that what I speak to-day Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing? In all its tides sweeps not the world away, And shall a promise bind my being? Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear: Who would himself therefrom deliver? Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair! No sacrifice shall he repent of ever. Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care, A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor. The word, alas! dies even in the pen, And wax and leather keep the lordship then. What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say?— Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay? The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated? I freely leave the choice to thee.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why heat thyself, thus instantly, With eloquence exaggerated? Each leaf for such a pact is good; And to subscribe thy name thou’lt take a drop of blood.

FAUST

If thou therewith art fully satisfied, So let us by the farce abide.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Blood is a juice of rarest quality.

FAUST

Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever? The promise that I make to thee Is just the sum of my endeavor. I have myself inflated all too high; My proper place is thy estate: The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply, And Nature shuts on me her gate. The thread of Thought at last is broken, And knowledge brings disgust unspoken. Let us the sensual deeps explore, To quench the fervors of glowing passion! Let every marvel take form and fashion Through the impervious veil it wore! Plunge we in Time’s tumultuous dance, In the rush and roll of Circumstance! Then may delight and distress, And worry and success, Alternately follow, as best they can: Restless activity proves the man!

MEPHISTOPHELES

For you no bound, no term is set. Whether you everywhere be trying, Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying, May it agree with you, what you get! Only fall to, and show no timid balking.

FAUST

But thou hast heard, ’tis not of joy we’re talking. I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment’s keenest pain, Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain. My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated, Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested, And all of life for all mankind created Shall be within mine inmost being tested: The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow, Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow, And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded, I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Believe me, who for many a thousand year The same tough meat have chewed and tested, That from the cradle to the bier No man the ancient leaven has digested! Trust one of us, this Whole supernal Is made but for a God’s delight! He dwells in splendor single and eternal, But us he thrusts in darkness, out of sight, And you he dowers with Day and Night.

FAUST

Nay, but I will!

MEPHISTOPHELES