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  "meta": {
    "schema_version": "1.1",
    "endpoint": "/api/sources/goethe-works/faust/faust-i/05-scene-2-before-the-city-gate.json"
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  "work": {
    "slug": "faust-i",
    "name": "Faust I (1808)"
  },
  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "goethe-works",
      "name": "Works of Goethe",
      "url": "/sources/goethe-works/"
    },
    {
      "slug": "faust",
      "name": "Faust (Parts I and II)",
      "url": "/sources/faust/"
    }
  ],
  "chapter": {
    "num": 5,
    "slug": "05-scene-2-before-the-city-gate",
    "title": "Scene II — Before the City-Gate",
    "of": 28,
    "words": 2828,
    "text": "SEVERAL APPRENTICES.\n\n\\ \\ THY do you go that way?\n\nOTHERS.\n\nWe 're for the Hunters'-lodge, to-day.\n\nTue First.\n\nWe 'll saunter to the Mill, in yonder hollow.\n\nAn APPRENTICE.\n\nGo to the River Tavern, I should say.\n\nSECOND APPRENTICE.\n\nBut then, it 's not a pleasant way.\n\nTHe OTHERS.\n\nAnd what will you ?\n\n46 faust.\n\nA TuHirb.\n\nAs goes the crowd, I follow.\n\nA FourtnH.\n\nCome up to Burgdorf? There you 'll find good cheer,\nThe finest lasses and the best of beer,\nAnd jolly rows and squabbles, trust me!\n\nA Firru.\n\nYou swaggering fellow, is your hide\nA third time itching to be tried?\n\nI won't go there, your jolly rows disgust me!\n\nSERVANT-GIRL.\n\nNo, —no! I'll turn and go to town again.\n\nANOTHER.\n\nWe 'll surely find him by those\\oplars yonder.\n\nTue First.\n\nThat 's no great luck for me, 't is plain.\nYou 'll have him, when and where you wander:\nHis partner in the dance you 'l] be, —\n\nBut what is all your fun to me?\n\nScene LT. 47\n\nTHE OTHER.\n\nHe's surely not alone to-day :\nHe 'll be with Curly-head, I heard him say.\n\nA STUDENT.\n\nDeuce! how they step, the buxom wenches!\n\nCome, Brother! we must see them to the benches. ,\n\nA strong, old beer, a pipe that stings and bites,\n\nA girl in Sunday clothes, — these three are my delights.\n\nCrrizEn's DAUGHTER.\n\nJust see those handsome fellows, there!\nIt's really shameful, I declare ; —\nTo follow servant-girls, when they\n\nMight have the most genteel society to-day !\n\nSECOND STUDENT (fo the First).\n\nNot quite so fast! Two others come behind, —\nThose, dressed so prettily and neatly.\n\nMy neighbor 's one of them, I find,\n\nA girl that takes my heart, completely.\n\nThey go their way with looks demure,\n\nBut they 'll accept us, after all, I'm sure.\n\n48 faust.\n\nTHE First.\n\nNo, Brother! not for me their formal ways.\nQuick! lest our game escape us in the press:\nThe hand that wields the broom on Saturdays\nWill best, on Sundays, fondle and caress.\n\nCITIZEN.\n\nHe suits me not at all, our new-made Burgomaster !\nSince he 's installed, his arrogance grows faster.\nHow has he helped the town, I say?\n\nThings worsen, — what improvement names he?\nObedience, more than ever, claims he,\n\nAnd more than ever we must pay!\n\nBeccar (sings).\nGood gentlemen and lovely ladies,\nSo red of cheek and fine of dress,\nBehold, how needful here your aid is,\nAnd see and lighten my distress! |\nLet me not vainly sing my ditty ;\nHe's only glad who gives away :\nA holiday, that shows your pity,\nShall be for me a harvest-day !\n\nScene LT. AQ\n\n| ANOTHER CITIZEN.\nOn Sundays, holidays, there 's naught I take delight in,\nLike gossiping of war, and war's array,\nWhen down in Turkey, far away,\nThe foreign people are a-fighting.\nOne at the window sits, with glass and iriends,\nAnd sees all sorts of ships go down the river gliding:\nAnd blesses then, as home he wends\n\nAt night, our times of peace abiding.\n\nTuirp CITIZEN.\nYes, Neighbor! that's my notion, too:\nWhy, let them break their heads, let loose their passions,\nAnd mix things madly through and through,\n\nSo, here, we keep our good old fashions!\n\nOtp Woman (to the Citizen's Daughter).\nDear me, how fine! So handsome, and so young!\nWho would n't lose his heart, that met you?\nDon't be so proud! Ill hold my tongue,\nAnd what you 'd like Ill undertake to get you.\n\nCitizen's DAUGHTER.\nCome, Agatha! I shun the witch's sight\nBefore folks, lest there be misgiving :\n\n50 faust.\n\n'T is true, she showed me, on Saint Andrew's Night,3°\n\nMy future sweetheart, just as he were living.\n\nTue OTHER.\n\nShe showed me mine, in crystal clear,37\nWith several wild young blades, a soldier-lover :\nI seek him everywhere, I pry and peer,\n\nAnd yet, somehow, his face I can't discover.\n\nSOLDIERS.\n\nCastles, with lofty\nRamparts and towers,\nMaidens disdainful\nIn Beauty's array,\nBoth shall be ours!\nBold is the venture,\n\nSplendid the pay!\n\nLads, let the trumpets\nFor us be suing, —\nCalling to pleasure,\nCalling to ruin.\nStormy our life is;\n\nSuch is its boon!\n\nScene LT,\n\nMaidens and castles\nCapitulate soon.\n\nBold is the venture,\n\nSplendid the pay!\n\nAnd the soldiers go marching,\nMarching away !\n\nFaust aNnD WAGNER.\n\nFaust.\n\nReleased from ice are brook and river3*\n\nBy the quickening glance of the gracious Spring ;\nThe colors of hope to the valley cling,\n\nAnd weak old' Winter himself must shiver,\nWithdrawn to the mountains, a crownless king:\nWhence, ever retreating, he sends again\n\nImpotent showers of sleet that darkle\n\nIn belts across the green o' the plain.\n\nBut the sun will permit no white to sparkle;\nEverywhere form in development moveth ;\n\nHe will brighten the world with the tints he loveth,\nAnd, lacking blossoms, blue, yellow, and red,\n\nHe takes these gaudy people instead.\n\nTurn thee about, and from this height\n\nSI\n\n52 faust.\n\nBack on the town direct thy sight.\n\nOut of the hollow, gloomy gate,\n\nThe motley throngs come forth elate:\n\nEach will the joy of the sunshine hoard,\n\nTo honor the Day of the Risen Lord!\n\nThey feel, themselves, their resurrection :\nFrom the low, dark rooms, scarce habitable;\nFrom the bonds of Work, from Trade's restriction ;\nFrom the pressing weight of roof and gable;\nFrom the narrow, crushing streets and alleys;\nFrom the churches' solemn and reverend night,\nAll come forth to the cheerful light.\n\nHow lively, see! the multitude sallies,\nScattering through gardens and fields remote,\nWhile over the river, that broadly dallies,\nDances so many a festive boat ;\n\nAnd overladen, nigh to sinking,\n\nThe last full wherry takes the stream.\nYonder afar, from the hill-paths blinking,\nTheir clothes are colors that softly gleam.\n\nI hear the noise of the village, even ;\n\nHere is the People's proper Heaven ;\n\nHere high and low contented see!\n\nHere I am Man, — dare man to be!\n\nScene LI. 53\n\nWAGNER.\n\nTo stroll with you, Sir Doctor, flatters ;\n\n\"T is honor, profit, unto me.\n\nBut I, alone, would shun these shallow matters,\nSince all that 's coarse provokes my enmity.\n\nThis fiddling, shouting, ten-pin rolling\n\nI hate, — these noises of the throng:\n\nThey rave, as Satan were their sports controlling,\n\nAnd call it mirth, and call it song!\n\nPEASANTS, UNDER THE LINDEN—T REE.\n\n(Dance and Song.)\nAll for the dance the shepherd dressed, 3\n\nIn ribbons, wreath, and gayest vest\nHimself with care arraying :\nAround the linden lass and lad\nAlready footed it like mad:\nHurrah! hurrah!\nHurrah — tarara-la!\n\nThe fiddle-bow was playing.\n\nHe broke the ranks, no whit afraid,\nAnd with his elbow punched a maid,\n\nFaust.\n\nWho stood, the dance surveying:\nThe buxom wench, she turned and said:\n\" Now, you I call a stupid-head!\"\n\nHurrah! hurrah!\n\nHurrah — tarara-la!\n\n\"' Be decent while you 're staying!\"\n\nThen round the circle went their flight,\nThey danced to left, they danced to right:\nTheir kirtles all were playing.\nThey first grew red, and then grew warm,\nAnd rested, panting, arm in arm, —\nHurrah! hurrah!\nHurrah — tarara-la !\n\nAnd hips and elbows straying.\n\nNow, don't be so familiar here!\nHow many a one has fooled his dear,\nWaylaying and betraying!\nAnd yet, he coaxed her soon aside,\nAnd round the linden sounded wide:\nHurrah! hurrah!\nHurrah — tarara-la !\n\nAnd the fiddle-bow was playing.\n\nScene LT.\n\nOp PEASANT.\nSir Doctor, it is good of you,'\nThat thus you condescend, to-day,\nAmong this crowd of merry folk,\nA highly-learned man, to stray.\n- Then also take the finest can,\nWe fill with fresh wine, for your sake:\nI offer it, and humbly wish\nThat not alone your thirst it slake, —\nThat, as the drops below its brink,\nSo many days of life you drink!\n\nFaust.\n\nI take the cup you kindly reach,\nWith thanks and health to all and each.\n\n(The People gather in a circle about him.)\n\nOLp PEASANT.\n\nIn truth, 't is well and fitly timed,\nThat now our day of joy you share,\nWho heretofore, in evil days,\n\nGave us so much of helping care.\n\nStill many a man stands living here,\n\n56 faust.\n\nSaved by your father's skilful hand,\nThat snatched him from the fever's rage\nAnd stayed the plague in all the land.\nThen also you, though but a youth,\nWent into every house of pain:\n\nMany the corpses carried forth,\n\nBut you in health came out again.\n\nNo test or trial you evaded :\n\nA Helping God the helper aided.\n\nALL.\n\nHealth to the man, so skilled and tried,\nThat for our help he long may bide!\n\nFaust.\nTo Him above bow down, my friends,\n\nWho teaches help, and succor sends!\n\n(He goes on with Wacner.)\n\nWAGNER.\n\nWith what a feeling, thou great man, must thou\nReceive the people's honest veneration !\n\nHow lucky he, whose gifts his station\n\nWith such advantages endow!\n\nScene LT.\n\nThou 'rt shown to all the younger generation :\nEach asks, and presses near to gaze;\n\nThe fiddle stops, the dance delays.\n\nThou goest, they stand in rows to see, ©\n\nAnd all the caps are lifted high ;\n\nA little more, and they would bend the knee\nAs if the Holy Host came by. |\n\nFaust.\n\nA few more steps ascend, as far as yonder stone! —\nHere from our wandering will we rest contented.\nHere, lost in thought, I 've lingered oft alone,\nWhen foolish fasts and prayers my life tormented.\nHere, rich in hope and firm in faith,\n\nWith tears, wrung hands and sighs, I 've striven,\nThe end of that far-spreading death\n\nEntreating from the Lord of Heaven!\n\nNow like contempt the crowd's applauses seem :\nCouldst thou but read, within mine inmost spirit,\nHow little now I deem\n\nThat sire or son such praises merit!\n\nMy father's was a sombre, brooding brain,\n\nWhich through the holy spheres of Nature groped and\n\nwandered,\n\n5 8 Faust.\n\nAnd honestly, in his own fashion, pondered\n\nWith labor whimsical, and pain:\n\nWho, in his dusky work-shop bending,\n\nWith proved adepts in company, |\n\nMade, from his recipes unending,\n\nOpposing substances agree.\n\nThere was a Lion red, a wooer daring,\n\nWithin the Lily's tepid bath espoused,\n\nAnd both, tormented then by flame unsparing,\n\nBy turns in either bridal chamber housed.\n\nIf then appeared, with colors splendid,\n\nThe young Queen in her crystal shell,\n\nThis was the medicine — the patients' woes soon ended,\nAnd none demanded: who got well?\n\nThus we, our hellish boluses compounding,\n\nAmong these vales and hills surrounding,\n\nWorse than the pestilence, have passed.\n\nThousands were done to death from poison of my giving;\nAnd I must hear, by all the living,\n\nThe shameless murderers praised at last !\n\nWAGNER.\n\nWhy, therefore, yield to such depression?\n\nA good man does his honest share\n\nScene IT. 59\n\nIn exercising, with the strictest care,\n\nThe art bequeathed to his possession !\n\nDost thou thy father honor, as a youth?\n\nThen may his teaching cheerfully impel thee:\nDost thou, as man, increase the stores of truth?\n\nThen may thine own son afterwards excel thee.\n\nFaust.\n\nO happy he, who still renews\n\nThe hope, from Error's deeps to rise forever !\nThat which one does not know, one needs to use;\nAnd what one knows, one uses never.\n\nBut let us not, by such despondence, so\n\nThe fortune of this hour embitter!\n\nMark how, beneath the evening sunlight's glow,\nThe green-embosomed houses glitter !\n\nThe glow retreats, done is the day of toil;\n\nIt yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring ;\nAh, that no wing can lift me from the soil,\n_Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!\n\nThen would I see eternal Evening gild\n\nThe silent world beneath me glowing,\n\nOn fire each mountain-peak, with peace each valley filled,\n\nThe silver brook to golden rivers flowing.\n\n60 Faust.\n\nThe mountain-chain, with all its gorges deep,\nWould then no more impede my godlike motion ;\nAnd now before mine eyes expands the ocean\nWith all its bays, in shining sleep!\n\nYet, finally, the weary god is sinking;\n\nThe new-born impulse fires my mind, —\n\nI hasten on, his beams eternal drinking,\n\nThe Day before me and the Night behind,\nAbove me heaven unfurled, the floor of waves beneath me, —\nA glorious dream! though now the glories fade.\nAlas! the wings that lift the mind no aid\n\nOf wings to lift the body can bequeath me.\n\nYet in each soul is born the pleasure\n\nOf yearning onward, upward and away,\n\nWhen o'er our heads, lost in the vaulted azure,\nThe lark sends down his flickering lay, —\n\nWhen over crags and piny highlands\n\nThe poising eagle slowly soars,\n\nAnd over plains and lakes and islands\n\nThe crane sails by to other shores.\n\nWAGNER.\n\nI've had, myself, at times, some odd caprices, -\n\nBut never yet such impulse felt, as this is.\n\nScene LT. 61\n\nOne soon fatigues, on woods and fields to look,\n\nNor would I beg the bird his wing to spare us:\n\nHow otherwise the mental raptures bear us\n\nFrom page to page, from book to book!\n\nThen winter nights take loveliness untold,\n\nAs warmer life in every limb had crowned you;\n\nAnd when your hands unroll some parchment rare and old,\n\nAll Heaven descends, and opens bright around you!\n\nFaust.\n\nOne impulse art thou conscious of, at best ;\n\nO, never seek to know the other!\n\nTwo souls, alas! reside within my breast,\n\nAnd each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.\nOne with tenacious organs holds in love\n\nAnd clinging lust the world in its embraces ;\n\nThe other strongly sweeps, this dust above,\n\nInto the high ancestral spaces.\n\nIf there be airy spirits near,'\n\n\"Twixt Heaven and Earth on potent errands fleeing,\nLet them drop down the golden atmosphere,\nAnd bear me forth to new and varied being!\n\nYea, if a magic mantle once were mine,\n\nTo waft me o'er the world at pleasure,\n\n62 Faust.\n\n_I would not for the costliest stores of treasure —\n\nNot for a monarch's robe — the gift resign.\n\nWAGNER.\nInvoke not thus the well-known throng,\nWhich through the firmament diffused is faring,\nAnd danger thousand-fold, our race to wrong,\nIn every quarter is preparing.\nSwift from the North the spirit-fangs so sharp +\nSweep down, and with their barbéd points assail you;\nThen from the East they come, to dry and warp\nYour lungs, till breath and being fail you:\nIf from the Desert sendeth them the South,\nWith fire on fire your throbbing forehead crowning,\nThe West leads on a host, to cure the drouth\nOnly when meadow, field, and you are drowning.\nThey gladly hearken, prompt for injury, —\nGladly obey, because they gladly cheat us;\nFrom Heaven they represent themselves to be,\nAnd lisp like angels, when with lies they meet us.\nBut, let us go! *T is gray and dusky all:\nThe air is cold, the vapors fall.\nAt night, one learns his house to prize : —\nWhy stand you thus, with such astonished eyes?\nWhat, in the twilight, can your mind so trouble?\n\nScene Ll, 63\n\nFaust.\n\nSeest thou the black dog coursing there, through corn and\nstubble ? 45\n\nWAGNER.\n\nLong since: yet deemed him not important in the least.\n\nFaust.\n\nInspect him close: for what tak'st thou the beast?\n\nWAGNER.\n\nWhy, for a poodle who has lost his master,\nAnd scents about, his track to find.\n\nFaust.\nSeest thou the spiral circles, narrowing faster,\nWhich he, approaching, round us seems to wind?\nA streaming trail of fire, if I see rightly,\nFollows his path of mystery.\n\nWAGNER.\n\nIt may be that your eyes deceive you slightly ;\nNaught but a plain black poodle do I see.\n\n64 3 faust.\n\nFaust.\n\nIt seems to me that with enchanted cunning\n\nHe snares our feet, some future chain to bind.\n\nWAGNER.\n\nI see him timidly, in doubt, around us running,\n\nSince, in his master's stead, two strangers doth he find.\n\nFaust.\n\nThe circle narrows: he is near!\n\nWAGNER.\n\nA dog thou seest, and not a phantom, here!\nBehold him stop — upon his belly craw] —\nHis tail set wagging: canine habits, all!\n\nFaust.\n\nCome, follow us! Come here, at least !\n\nWAGNER.\n'T' is the absurdest, drollest beast.\n\nStand still, and you will see him wait;\n\nAddress him, and he gambols straight ;\n\nScene LIT.\n\nIf something 's lost, he 'll quickly bring it, —\n\nYour cane, if in the stream you fling it.\n\nFaust.\n\nNo doubt you 're right: no trace of mind, I own,\n\nIs in the beast: I see but drill, alone.\n\nWAGNER.\n\nThe dog, when he's well educated,\nIs by the wisest tolerated.\nYes, he deserves your favor thoroughly, —\n\nThe clever scholar of the students, he!\n\n(They pass in the city-gate.)\n\n66 faust.\n\nIII.\nTHE STUDY.",
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