it yearns
But dare not take--a yielding to some Will,
Whose Will, we know not, nor do greatly care
So long it be not our will....

Thus may yield
The weary; I am weary, but not yet
To such last slumber. Thus may yield the base;
I am not base. Thus may those spirits yield
Who, poisoned by some madness in their blood,
Despise life's being; but not yet will I
So utterly despise it. Though in gulfs
Of yet unsounded ruin I should die
At the end miserably, I still shall seek
In life itself my refuge: not in God
That stands apart from life, on heights of peace.
All my desires, my visions, my dreams, my unrest,
My loathing and my longing will I clutch
And cry: "With all its bitterness on my head,
_My Will_ be done, not Thy Will!"

BRANDER

Blasphemy!
Ah, Faust, what madness!...

FAUST

With calm sight, I speak
No blasphemy, but truth. Shall I buy peace
So easily? Toss my burdens to God'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 God 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 in