Part 16

I'll pledge myself to be thy servant here, Still at thy back alert and prompt to be; But when together yonder we appear, Then shalt thou do the same for me.

FAUST

But small concern I feel for yonder world; Hast thou this system into ruin hurl'd, Another may arise the void to fill. This earth the fountain whence my pleasures flow, This sun doth daily shine upon my woe, And if this world I must forego, Let happen then,--what can and will. I to this theme will close mine ears, If men hereafter hate and love,

FAUST

And if there be in yonder spheres A depth below or height above.

MEPHISTOPHELES

In this mood thou mayst venture it. But make The compact! I at once will undertake To charm thee with mine arts. I'll give thee more Than mortal eye hath e'er beheld before.

FAUST

What, sorry Devil, hast thou to bestow? Was ever mortal spirit, in its high endeavour, Fathom'd by Being such as thou? Yet food thou hast which satisfieth never, Hast ruddy gold, that still doth flow Like restless quicksilver away, A game thou hast, at which none win who play, A girl who would, with amorous eyen, E'en from my breast, a neighbour snare, Lofty ambition's joy divine, That, meteor-like, dissolves in air. Show me the fruit that, ere 'tis pluck'd, doth rot, And trees, whose verdure daily buds anew!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Such a commission scares me not, I can provide such treasures, it is true; But, my good friend, a season will come round, When on what's good we may regale in peace.

FAUST

If e'er upon my couch, stretched at my ease, I'm found, Then may my life that instant cease! Me canst thou cheat with glozing wile Till self-reproach away I cast,-- Me with joy's lure canst thou beguile Let that day be for me the last! Be this our wager!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Settled!

FAUST

Sure and fast! When to the moment I shall say, "Linger awhile! so fair thou art!" Then mayst thou fetter me straightway, Then to the abyss will I depart! Then may the solemn death-bell sound, Then from thy service thou art free, The index then may cease its round, And time be never more for me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I shall remember: pause, ere 'tis too late.

FAUST

Thereto a perfect right hast thou. My strength I do not rashly overrate. Slave am I here, at any rate, If thine, or whose, it matters not, I trow.

MEPHISTOPHELES

At thine inaugural feast I will this day Attend, my duties to commence.-- But one thing!--Accidents may happen, hence A line or two in writing grant, I pray.

FAUST

A writing, Pedant! dost demand from me? Man, and man's plighted word, are these unknown to thee? Is't not enough, that by the word I gave, My doom for evermore is cast? Doth not the world in all its currents rave, And must a promise hold me fast? Yet fixed is this delusion in our heart; Who, of his own free will, therefrom would part? How blest within whose breast truth reigneth pure! No sacrifice will he repent when made! A formal deed, with seal and signature, A spectre this from which all shrink afraid. The word its life resigneth in the pen, Leather and wax usurp the mastery then. Spirits of evil! what dost thou require? Brass, marble, parchment, paper, dost desire? Shall I with chisel, pen, or graver write? Thy choice is free; to me 'tis all the same.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Wherefore thy passion so excite And thus thine eloquence inflame? A scrap is for our compact good. Thou under-signest merely with a drop of blood.

FAUST