Mephistopheles.  I’m right, nathless!

Faust.  Now, hark to me—­
This once, I pray, and spare my lungs, old fellow—­
Whoever will be right, and has a tongue to bellow,
Is sure to be. 
But come, enough of swaggering, let’s be quit,
For thou art right, because I must submit.

      GARDEN.

      MARGARET on FAUST’S arm.  MARTHA with MEPHISTOPHELES.
          [Promenading up and down.]

Margaret.  The gentleman but makes me more confused
With all his condescending goodness. 
Men who have travelled wide are used
To bear with much from dread of rudeness;
I know too well, a man of so much mind
In my poor talk can little pleasure find.

Faust.  One look from thee, one word, delights me more
Than this world’s wisdom o’er and o’er.
       [Kisses her hand.]

Margaret.  Don’t take that trouble, sir!  How could you bear to kiss it? 
A hand so ugly, coarse, and rough! 
How much I’ve had to do! must I confess it—­
Mother is more than close enough.
       [They pass on.]

Martha.  And you, sir, are you always travelling so?

Mephistopheles.  Alas, that business forces us to do it!  With what regret from many a place we go, Though tenderest bonds may bind us to it!

Martha.  ’Twill do in youth’s tumultuous maze
To wander round the world, a careless rover;
But soon will come the evil days,
And then, a lone dry stick, on the grave’s brink to hover,
For that nobody ever prays.

Mephistopheles.  The distant prospect shakes my reason.

Martha.  Then, worthy sir, bethink yourself in season.
      [They pass on.]

Margaret.  Yes, out of sight and out of mind! 
Politeness you find no hard matter;
But you have friends in plenty, better
Than I, more sensible, more refined.

Faust.  Dear girl, what one calls sensible on earth, Is often vanity and nonsense.

Margaret.  How?

Faust.  Ah, that the pure and simple never know
Aught of themselves and all their holy worth! 
That meekness, lowliness, the highest measure
Of gifts by nature lavished, full and free—­

Margaret.  One little moment, only, think of me, I shall to think of you have ample time and leisure.

Faust.  You’re, may be, much alone?

Margaret.  Our household is but small, I own,
And yet needs care, if truth were known. 
We have no maid; so I attend to cooking, sweeping,
Knit, sew, do every thing, in fact;
And mother, in all branches of housekeeping,
Is so exact! 
Not that she need be tied so very closely down;
We might stand higher than some others, rather;
A nice estate was left us by my father,
A house and garden not far out of town. 
Yet, after all, my life runs pretty quiet;
My brother is a soldier,
My little sister’s dead;
With the dear child indeed a wearing life I led;
And yet with all its plagues again would gladly try it,
The child was such a pet.