When thou with flattery canst cajole me,
Till I self-satisfied shall be,
When thou with pleasure canst befool me,
Be that the last of days for me!
Till I self-satisfied shall be,
When thou with pleasure canst befool me,
Be that the last of days for me!
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
I care not much what's over yonder:
When thou hast knocked this world asunder,
Come if it will the other may!
Up from this earth my pleasures all are streaming,
Down on my woes this earthly sun is beaming;
Let me but end this fit of dreaming,
Then come what will, I've nought to say.
I'll hear no more of barren wonder
If in that world they hate and love,
And whether in that future yonder
There's a Below and an Above.
_Mephistopheles. _ In such a mood thou well mayst venture.
Bind thyself to me, and by this indenture
Thou shalt enjoy with relish keen
Fruits of my arts that man had never seen.
_Faust_. And what hast thou to give, poor devil?
Was e'er a human mind, upon its lofty level,
Conceived of by the like of thee?
Yet hast thou food that brings satiety,
Not satisfaction; gold that reftlessly,
Like quicksilver, melts down within
The hands; a game in which men never win;
A maid that, hanging on my breast,
Ogles a neighbor with her wanton glances;
Of fame the glorious godlike zest,
That like a short-lived meteor dances--
Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot,
And trees from which new green is daily peeping!
_Mephistopheles_. Such a requirement scares me not;
Such treasures have I in my keeping.
Yet shall there also come a time, good friend,
When we may feast on good things at our leisure.
_Faust_. If e'er I lie content upon a lounge of pleasure--
Then let there be of me an end!
When thou with flattery canst cajole me,
Till I self-satisfied shall be,
When thou with pleasure canst befool me,
Be that the last of days for me!
I lay the wager!
_Mephistopheles_. Done!
_Faust_. And heartily!
Whenever to the passing hour
I cry: O stay! thou art so fair!
To chain me down I give thee power
To the black bottom of despair!
Then let my knell no longer linger,
Then from my service thou art free,
Fall from the clock the index-finger,
Be time all over, then, for me!
_Mephistopheles_. Think well, for we shall hold you to the letter.
_Faust_. Full right to that just now I gave;
I spoke not as an idle braggart better.
Henceforward I remain a slave,
What care I who puts on the setter?
_Mephistopheles_.
When thou hast knocked this world asunder,
Come if it will the other may!
Up from this earth my pleasures all are streaming,
Down on my woes this earthly sun is beaming;
Let me but end this fit of dreaming,
Then come what will, I've nought to say.
I'll hear no more of barren wonder
If in that world they hate and love,
And whether in that future yonder
There's a Below and an Above.
_Mephistopheles. _ In such a mood thou well mayst venture.
Bind thyself to me, and by this indenture
Thou shalt enjoy with relish keen
Fruits of my arts that man had never seen.
_Faust_. And what hast thou to give, poor devil?
Was e'er a human mind, upon its lofty level,
Conceived of by the like of thee?
Yet hast thou food that brings satiety,
Not satisfaction; gold that reftlessly,
Like quicksilver, melts down within
The hands; a game in which men never win;
A maid that, hanging on my breast,
Ogles a neighbor with her wanton glances;
Of fame the glorious godlike zest,
That like a short-lived meteor dances--
Show me the fruit that, ere it's plucked, will rot,
And trees from which new green is daily peeping!
_Mephistopheles_. Such a requirement scares me not;
Such treasures have I in my keeping.
Yet shall there also come a time, good friend,
When we may feast on good things at our leisure.
_Faust_. If e'er I lie content upon a lounge of pleasure--
Then let there be of me an end!
When thou with flattery canst cajole me,
Till I self-satisfied shall be,
When thou with pleasure canst befool me,
Be that the last of days for me!
I lay the wager!
_Mephistopheles_. Done!
_Faust_. And heartily!
Whenever to the passing hour
I cry: O stay! thou art so fair!
To chain me down I give thee power
To the black bottom of despair!
Then let my knell no longer linger,
Then from my service thou art free,
Fall from the clock the index-finger,
Be time all over, then, for me!
_Mephistopheles_. Think well, for we shall hold you to the letter.
_Faust_. Full right to that just now I gave;
I spoke not as an idle braggart better.
Henceforward I remain a slave,
What care I who puts on the setter?
_Mephistopheles_.
