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Sopotent was the charm, that had not God Shielded my humble innocence from wrong,


May scatter thy delusions, and the blot I should have sought my sorrow and my
Upon my fame vanish in idle thought,
Even as flame dies in the envious air,
And as the floweret wanes at morning



Appeal to Heaven against thee; so that Heaven

And thou shouldst never- - But, alas!

to whom

Do I still speak?-Did not a man but now Stand here before me ?-No, I am alone, And yet I saw him. Is he gone so quickly?

Or can the heated mind engender shapes
From its own fear? Some terrible and
Peril is near.

Lisander! father! lord!

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A man here! Justina. Have you not seen him? Livia. No, Lady.

Justina. I saw him.

'Tis impossible; the doors Which led to this apartment were all locked.

Livia (aside). I daresay it was Moscon whom she saw,

For he was locked up in my room.


It must Have been some image of thy phantasy. Such melancholy as thou feedest is Skilful in forming such in the vain air Out of the motes and atoms of the day. Livia. My master's in the right. Justina. Oh would it were Delusion; but I fear some greater ill. I feel as if out of my bleeding bosom My heart was torn in fragments; ay, Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame;

With willing steps.—Livia, quick, bring my cloak,

For I must seek refuge from these


Even in the temple of the highest God
Where secretly the faithful worship.
Justina (putting on her cloak). In
this, as in a shroud of snow, may I
Quench the consuming fire in which I
Wasting away!
Livia. When I once see them safe
out of the house
I shall breathe freely.
In thy just favour, Heaven!

And I will go with

So do I confide

Let us go.

Justina. Thine is the cause, great God! turn for my sake, And for thine own, mercifully to me!


SCENE I.-PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN The LORD and the Host of Heaven. Enter three Archangels.


THE sun makes music as of old

Amid the rival spheres of Heaven, On its predestined circle rolled

With thunder speed: the Angels even Draw strength from gazing on its glance, Though none its meaning fathom may:

The world's unwithered countenance
Is bright as at creation's day.

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Had you not long since given over laughing.

Nothing know I to say of suns and worlds;

I observe only how men plague themselves ;



little god o' the world keeps the
same stamp,

As wonderful as on creation's day:
A little better would he live, hadst thou
Not given him a glimpse of Heaven's

Which he calls reason, and employs it only

To live more beastlily than any beast. With reverence to your Lordship be it spoken,

He's like one of those long-legged grasshoppers,

Who flits and jumps about, and sings for ever

The same old song i' the grass. There let him lie,

Burying his nose in every heap of dung. The Lord. Have you no more to say? Do you come here

And make, raging, a chain

Of deepest operation round about.
There flames a flashing destruction
Before the path of the thunderbolt.
But thy servants, Lord, revere
The gentle alternations of thy day.

Chorus. Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,

Though none can comprehend thee:
And all thy lofty works

Are excellent as at the first day.

Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum.


The full fresh cheeks of youth are food for me,

Always to scold, and cavil, and complain?

Seems nothing ever right to you on And if a corpse knocks, I am not at earth?


Mephistopheles. No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. Even I am sorry for man's days of


I could myself almost give up the His spirit from its pleasure find'st power, Seize him and lead him on thy downward path;

And stand ashamed when failure teaches thee

That a good man, even in his darkest

Is well aware of the right way.
Well and good.
I am not in much doubt about my bet,
And if I lose, then 'tis your turn to

Enjoy your triumph then with a full


Of plaguing the poor things.
The Lord. Knowest thou Faust?
Mephistopheles. The Doctor?
The Lord. Ay; my servant Faust.
In truth
He serves you in a fashion quite his

And the fool's meat and drink are not
of earth.

His aspirations bear him on so far
That he is half aware of his own folly,
For he demands from Heaven its fairest

And from the earth the highest joy it Ay;

For I am like a cat-I like to play
A little with the mouse before I eat it.
The Lord. Well, well! it is per-
mitted thee. Draw thou
springs; as thou

dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure,


Yet all things far, and all things near, Like my old paramour, the famous are vain


To calm the deep emotions of his breast. The Lord. Though he now serves me in a cloud of error,

The Lord. Pray come here when it suits you; for I never


much dislike for people of your

I will soon lead him forth to the clear



And, among all the Spirits who rebelled, When trees look green full well the The knave was ever the least tedious gardener knows

to me.


active spirit of man soon sleeps,
and soon

That fruits and blooms will deck the
coming year.
Mephistopheles. What will you bet?
-now I am sure of winning--
Only, observe you give me full per-

He seeks unbroken quiet; therefore I
Have given him the Devil for a com-
Who may provoke him to some sort of

To lead him softly on my path.
The Lord.

As long
As he shall live upon the earth, so long
Is nothing unto thee forbidden-Man
Must err till he has ceased to struggle.

And that is all I ask; for willingly
I never make acquaintance with the


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And the hoar pines already feel her breath:

Shall she not work also within our limbs ?

Mephistopheles. Nothing of such an

influence do I feel.

My body is all wintry, and I wish
The flowers upon our path were frost
and snow.

Would favour us with your bright company?

Why should you blaze away there to no purpose?


And gives so bad a light, that every step
One stumbles 'gainst some crag.

Pray be so good as light us up this way. Ignis-fatuus. With reverence be it spoken, I will try

To overcome the lightness of my nature;
Our course, you know, is generally zig-


Mephistopheles. Ha, ha! your worship thinks you have to deal With men. Gostraight on, in the Devil's


Or I shall puff your flickering life out.

I see you are the master of the house;
I will accommodate myself to you.
Only consider that to-night this moun-


Precipitate themselves in waterfalls,
Is the true sport that seasons such a path. The limits of the sphere of dream,
Already Spring kindles the birchen

The bounds of true and false, are past.
Lead us on, thou wandering Gleam,
Lead us onward, far and fast,
To the wide, the desert waste.
But see, how swift advance and shift

Trees behind trees, row by row,-
How, clift by clift, rocks bend and lift
Their frowning foreheads as we go.
The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho!
How they snort, and how they blow!

Is all enchanted, and if Jack-a-lantern Shows you his way, though you should miss your own,

You ought not to be too exact with him.

FATUUS, in alternate Chorus.

But see how melancholy rises now,
Dimly uplifting her belated beam,

The blank unwelcome round of the red Through the mossy sods and stones,
Stream and streamlet hurry down-

A rushing throng! A sound of song Beneath the vault of Heaven is blown! Sweet notes of love, the speaking tones Of this bright day, sent down to say That Paradise on Earth is known,

your permission,

I'll call an Ignis-fatuus to our aid:
I see one yonder burning jollily.

Halloo, my friend! may I request that Resound around, beneath, above.


All we hope and all we love

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Till all the mountain depths are spangled.

Tell me, shall we go or stay?

Shall we onward? Come along!
Everything around is swept
Forward, onward, far away!
Trees and masses intercept
The sight, and wisps on every side
Are puffed up and multiplied.

Shoots from the lowest gorge of the abyss Of mountains, lightning hitherward : there rise

my skirt, and gain

This pinnacle of isolated crag.

One may observe with wonder from this

Pillars of smoke, here clouds float gently by;

Here the light burns soft as the enkindled air,

Or the illumined dust of golden flowers;
And now it glides like tender colours


And now bursts forth in fountains from the earth;

And now it winds, one torrent of broad light,

Through the far valley with a hundred veins;

And now once more within that narrow

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Mephistopheles. Now vigorously seize Cling tightly to the old ribs of the crag. Beware! for if with them thou


In their fierce flight towards the wilderness,


and drag

How Mammon glows among the moun- Their breath will sweep thee into dust,
And strangely through the solid depth

Thy body to a grave in the abyss.
A cloud thickens the night.

A melancholy light, like the red dawn,

Hark! how the tempest crashes through the forest!

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