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With calm sight, I speak No blasphemy, but truth. Shall I buy peace So easily? Toss my burdens to G.o.d's Will-- Into the fathomless void of that unknown?
Such were the last, the great apostacy....
I go into a darkness past your thought-- Into an emptiness you know not of-- A night profounder that it late has held Marsh-lights of promise. My last altar lies Smoking in ruins; and I stand alone Of all the universe. But my Will be done!
My errant tortured Will, my bitter Will, _My_ Will, _my_ Will!
BRANDER
Flee, ere the awful wrath Of G.o.d smite down these walls, these poisoned stones, That hear your words! Flee, ere the heavens rain forth Lightnings to blast us for these horrors!
FAUST
Nay!
In this dim hour of desolation's reign Upon my soul, I summon to my soul All powers that good or evil may consign To the most lonely man in all the world; I lift my voice, burdened with all the weight Of loathing and of longing, and I cry: My curse upon Thee, lure of dying hearts!
May lightnings smite Thy altars back to earth!
BRANDER
Father, forgive! He knows not what he does....
CURTAIN
THE FOURTH ACT
_The scene is a public lecture-hall. To the left rises a platform, on which stands a reading-desk. To the right are rows of chairs arranged as for an audience. In the front row of these sit four old men, patiently and silently waiting. One is reading a newspaper.
Suddenly there bursts into the hall a rout of wildly gay and dancing maskers: Harlequin, Columbine, a Pig, Pantaloon, an enormously tall Ghost, Clowns, a Skeleton, Ballet-girls, Oriental Princesses, Monks, Courtiers, Turks and Jew Pedlers. The first few attempt to draw back on seeing the chairs and the four old men; but they are pushed on by those behind. Once in, they all circle about in a crazy dance, singing over and over the same verse._
THE MASKERS
Oh, children, children, New Year's Day Is more than half a year away.
And we might get most awful dry If we should wait for the Fourth of July.
So let us celebrate now and here With rah, rah, rah and a bottle of beer!
[_One of the maskers, who is dressed as a clown, raises his hands, ineffectually trying to hush the rest._
CLOWN (_shouting_)
Stop! Stop! I want to teach another verse To you before we go back to the others.
[_Loud laughter. The song continues._
THE SKELETON (_shouting_)
Isn't one bad enough?
CLOWN
A poor thing--but It is mine own.
THE PIG
So much the worse for you!
ONE OF THE OLD MEN (_rising_)
Gentlemen! There's to be a lecture here.
CLOWN
Is that all? Well, I'll give it you myself.
A MONK
Not if we see you first!
THE PIG
My G.o.d! Let's run!
SKELETON
Back! Or the others will drink all the punch!
[_The mob of maskers turbulently surges out again, leaving the hall quiet and empty except for the four old men._
AN OLD MAN
They are a noisy lot.
SECOND OLD MAN
Yes.
THE FIRST OLD MAN
There must be Party upstairs?
SECOND OLD MAN
Yes, I suppose there is.
FIRST OLD MAN
They begin early.
THIRD OLD MAN
