Part 38

Up stood the jovial monarch, And quaff'd his last life's glow, Then hurled the hallow'd goblet Into the flood below.

He saw it splashing, drinking, And plunging hi the sea; His eyes meanwhile were sinking, And never again drank he. (She opens the press to put away her clothes, and perceives the casket.)

How comes this lovely casket here? The press I locked, of that I'm confident. 'Tis very wonderful! What's in it I can't guess; Perhaps 'twas brought by some one in distress. And left in pledge for loan my mother lent. Here by a ribbon hangs a little key! I have a mind to open it and see! Heavens! only look! what have we here! In all my days ne'er saw I such a sight! Jewels! which any noble dame might wear, For some high pageant richly dight! This chain--how would it look on me! These splendid gems, whose may they be? (She puts them on and steps before the glass.)

Were but the ear-rings only mine! Thus one has quite another air. What hoots it to be young and fair? It doubtless may be very flue; But then, alas, none cares for you, And praise sounds half like pity too. Gold all doth lure, Gold doth secure All things. Alas, we poor!

PROMENADE

FAUST walking thoughtfully up and down. To him MEPHISTOPHELES.

MEPHISTOPHELES

By all rejected love! By hellish fire I curse, Would I knew aught to make my imprecation worse!

FAUST

What aileth thee? what chafes thee now so sore? A face like that I never saw before!

MEPHISTOPHELES

I'd yield me to the devil instantly, Did it not happen that myself am he!

FAUST

There must be some disorder in thy wit! To rave thus like a madman, is it fit?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Think! only think! The gems for Gretchen brought, Them hath a priest now made his own!-- A glimpse of them the mother caught, And 'gan with secret fear to groan. The woman's scent is keen enough; Doth ever in the prayer-book snuff; Smells every article to ascertain Whether the thing is holy or profane, And scented in the jewels rare, That there was not much blessing there. "My child," she cries, "ill-gotten good Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood; With them we'll deck our Lady's shrine, She'll cheer our souls with bread divine!" At this poor Gretchen 'gan to pout; 'Tis a gift-horse, at least, she thought, And sure, he godless cannot be, Who brought them here so cleverly. Straight for a priest the mother sent, Who, when he understood the jest, With what he saw was well content. "This shows a pious mind!" Quoth he: "Self-conquest is true victory. The Church bath a good stomach, she, with zest, Whole countries hath swallow'd down, And never yet a surfeit known. The Church alone, be it confessed, Daughters, can ill-got wealth digest."

FAUST

It is a general custom, too. Practised alike by king and jew.

MEPHISTOPHELES

With that, clasp, chain, and ring, he swept As they were mushrooms; and the casket, Without one word of thanks, he kept, As if of nuts it were a basket. Promised reward in heaven, then forth he hied-- And greatly they were edified.

FAUST

And Gretchen!

MEPHISTOPHELES

In unquiet mood Knows neither what she would or should; The trinkets night and day thinks o'er, On him who brought them, dwells still more.

FAUST

The darling's sorrow grieves me, bring Another set without delay! The first, methinks, was no great thing.

MEPHISTOPHELES

All's to my gentleman child's play!