Part 62

MEPHISTOPHELES

Now is the lubber tame! But come, away! ’Tis time for us to fly; For there arises now a murderous cry. With the police ’twere easy to compound it, But here the penal court will sift and sound it.

MARTHA (at the window)

Come out! Come out!

MARGARET (at the window)

Quick, bring a light!

MARTHA (as above)

They swear and storm, they yell and fight!

PEOPLE

Here lies one dead already—see!

MARTHA (coming from the house)

The murderers, whither have they run?

MARGARET (coming out)

Who lies here?

PEOPLE

’Tis thy mother’s son!

MARGARET

Almighty God! what misery!

VALENTINE

I’m dying! That is quickly said, And quicker yet ’tis done. Why howl, you women there? Instead, Come here and listen, every one!

(All gather around him)

My Margaret, see! still young thou art, But not the least bit shrewd or smart, Thy business thus to slight: So this advice I bid thee heed— Now that thou art a whore indeed, Why, be one then, outright!

MARGARET

My brother! God! such words to me?

VALENTINE

In this game let our Lord God be! What’s done’s already done, alas! What follows it, must come to pass. With one begin’st thou secretly, Then soon will others come to thee, And when a dozen thee have known, Thou’rt also free to all the town. When Shame is born and first appears, She is in secret brought to light, And then they draw the veil of night Over her head and ears; Her life, in fact, they’re loath to spare her. But let her growth and strength display, She walks abroad unveiled by day, Yet is not grown a whit the fairer. The uglier she is to sight, The more she seeks the day’s broad light. The time I verily can discern When all the honest folk will turn From thee, thou jade! and seek protection As from a corpse that breeds infection. Thy guilty heart shall then dismay thee. When they but look thee in the face:— Shalt not in a golden chain array thee, Nor at the altar take thy place! Shalt not, in lace and ribbons flowing, Make merry when the dance is going! But in some corner, woe betide thee! Among the beggars and cripples hide thee; And so, though even God forgive, On earth a damned existence live!

MARTHA

Commend your soul to God for pardon, That you your heart with slander harden!