Front Page Titles (by Subject) SCENE I.—: Eugenie's apartment in Gothic style. - Goethe's Works, vol. 2 (Faust 1 & 2, Egmont, Natural Daughter, Sorrows of Young Werther)
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SCENE I.—: Eugenie’s apartment in Gothic style. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 2 (Faust 1 & 2, Egmont, Natural Daughter, Sorrows of Young Werther) 
Goethe’s Works, illustrated by the best German artists, 5 vols. (Philadelphia: G. Barrie, 1885). Vol. 2.
Part of: Goethe’s Works, 5 vols.
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Eugenie’sapartment in Gothic style.
Do I deserve that thou should’st flee me thus
The moment that I bring thee wish’d-for tidings?
Pray listen first to what I have to say.
The burden of thy importunity
Too well I ween. Oh, let my eyes from seeing
The well-known glances, let my ears from hearing
The well-known accents ever turn away.
Let me escape the devastating power
Which through the influence of love and friendship
Beside me like a gloomy spectre stands.
When I before thee suddenly would pour,
After long hope deferr’d, the golden horn
Of fortune, when the morning-glow begins
That marks the dawning of the blissful day
That shall unite our lives forevermore,
Then seemest thou embarrass’d and reluctant
To meet thy bridegroom’s tenderest advances.
Therein thou showest me one side alone:
It glows and glistens like the world in sunshine.
But black night’s horror threatens nigh: I feel it.
Then let us first see but the lovely side.
Desirest thou a dwelling in the city,
Spacious and handsome, furnish’d splendidly,
Such as one wishes for himself, for guests?
’Tis waiting for thee: when next winter comes
’Twill find thee settl’d nobly, if thou wilt.
In Springtime dost thou yearn to see the country,
There too a house is ours, a lovely garden,
A fertile field. And all the keen enjoyment
In forest, moors, in meadows, brooks and ponds
That fancy e’en in visions might imagine
Shall we possess, in part our own estate,
In part as common property. And thus,
Since nothing goes for rent, by careful saving
We shall be able to secure our future.
The picture that thou paintest with such hues
Before my eyes is wrapp’d in gloomy clouds.
For not desirable but hideous seems
The abundance offer’d by the worldly gods.
What is the sacrifice they ask? To ruin
My gentle pupil’s happiness and fortune!
And whatsoe’er a crime like that might bring me,
Could I enjoy it with a quiet mind?
Eugenie! thou whose pure and gentle nature
From earliest youth entrusted to my guidance
With rich fruition has develop’d nobly.
How can I now distinguish in thee what
Is thine and what thou hast to thank me for?
Thee whom I love as my own handiwork
Must I then pluck out from my heart and ruin?
Of what base stuff are ye compos’d, ye monsters,
To dare demand a deed like this for lucre!
A good and honest heart preserves from youth
A store of precious treasures which in time
More costly grow and worthier of our love
To serve withal the Godhead of the temple.
Yet, when the mighty power that governs us
Demands a costly sacrifice, we yield it
At last although our hearts bleed at the duty.
Two worlds there be, my darling, which, conflicting
With awful violence, crush us between them.
Thy steps appear to wander in a world
To me entirely foreign, since thou schemest
A treacherous stroke against thy noble patron,
The Duke, preparing days of sorrow for him
By holding to his son. If the Almighty
Appears at times to give assent to crime
We call it accident. But man who chooses
With due reflection such unlawful paths,
He is a puzzle. But—and am not I
A puzzle to myself that I should cling
With such affection to thee when thou strivest
To drag me with thee o’er the precipice?
Oh, why did Nature cast thee in her mould,
So pleasing, lovely, irresistible,
And plant within thy bosom a cold heart,
A heart destructive of the peace of others?
Dost thou distrust the warmth of my affection?
This hand should slay me if I only dar’d.
Oh, why, alas! with this detested plot
Again assault my heart? Didst thou not swear
To hide the horror in everlasting night?
Alas! it rose with more impellent might!
This step is forc’d upon the Prince’s son.
An insignificant, inoffensive child
Eugenie was, for many peaceful years.
Commencing with her very earliest days,
Shrin’d in this ancient hall thou wert her guardian,
Few came to see her, and those secretly.
Yet how a father’s love deceiv’d itself.
The Duke, proud of his daughter’s excellence,
Relax’d his care and by degrees allow’d her
To show herself in public openly:
On horseback, driving, she is seen. All ask,
And all at last know, who the maiden is.
Her mother now is dead. The haughty dame,
To whom the child was an abomination,
A keen reminder of her fatal passion,
Had never recogniz’d her, scarcely seen her.
By her decease the Duke at last feels freed,
Devises secret plans, once more attends
At court, forgets the ancient grudge he owed
And seeks the King in reconciliation,
Demanding only that he grant this child
Her birthright as a princess of his race.
And do you then begrudge this lovely creature
The joy of feeling that the right was hers?
Belov’d! dearest! ah, thou speakest lightly,
Thus wall’d and separated from the world,
In cloister-wise, of riches of the earth!
Turn hence thine eyes! A treasure such as this
Is valu’d there more truly at its worth.
The father grudges it his son, the son
Reckons his father’s years, and deadly discord
Parts brothers, through this right intangible.
And e’en the priest forgets his sacred goal
And strives for riches. Is it then surprising
That, when the Prince has always call’d himself
The only child, he should decline to welcome
This sister who with insolent intrusion
Diminishes his fair inheritance?
What, if in his place, would’st thou do thyself?
Already is he not a wealthy Prince?
And at his father’s death will he not be
Superfluously rich? If he should spend
A part of his possessions would he waste them
In winning by them such a lovely sister?
To act with arbitrary will delights
The man of fortune. Nature’s claims he scorns;
He scorns the authority of law and reason,
And spends his substance on the throw of chance.
Merely to have sufficient is to starve.
Give all or nothing. Measureless possessions
For endless squandering are what he wishes.
Advice is not desir’d; think not to turn us.
If thou wilt not work with us, give us up.
What is the deed ye plan? Long ye have threaten’d,
Holding aloof, to blast the lovely child.
What have ye now in monstrous crime devis’d
To spoil her chance of fortune. Do ye ask
That I should blindly cling to what ye plan?
By no means. Thou shalt be initiated.
The first step lies with thee. Our scheme demands
That thou abduct Eugenie. She must vanish
So utterly from knowledge of the world
That we can confidently mourn her death.
The secret of her fate must be conceal’d
Forever, like the secret of the dead.
Ye doom her to a living grave, O villains,
And think to send me with her as companion.
Me too ye doom. I am with her to share—
I the betrayer chain’d to the betray’d—
The awful fate of death, a living death!
Thou shalt return when thou hast done the deed.
Is it a cloister where her days will end?
Not in a cloister! Such a costly pledge
We could not give the clergy, who might use it
Against us as a most convenient tool.
Then is it to the Islands? Tell me plainly!
Thy destination shall be known. Be patient!
How can I be before the fear and danger
That threat my lov’d one’s happiness and mine?
Thy lov’d one in her new life joy will find.
And joy and rapture will await thee here.
Oh, flatter not yourselves with such a hope!
What good is there in holding such temptations
Before me—forcing me, enticing me?
The noble child herself will block your scheme.
Think not to drag her off a willing victim
And helpless. Nay, the spirit that fills her heart
With courage, and the power inherited,
Will go with her where’er she goes, and break
The evil net which you have cast around her.
Thy part will be to make the meshes strong.
Wilt thou persuade me that a simple child,
Till now protected by the arm of Fortune,
Will show, when unexpected chance arises,
Forethought and power, sagacity and wisdom?
Her mind is cultur’d but to think, not act.
And if her thoughts are right, her speech delightful,
Yet much is lacking in her will to do.
The lofty boundless courage of ignorance
Sinks easily to cowardice and despair
When stern Necessity presents itself.
What we have plann’d see that thou carry out.
Small will the harm be, splendid the reward.
Then give me time to ponder and decide.
The moment for the action is at hand.
The Duke knows well that the next holiday
The King will grant the favor long desired,
And recognize his daughter’s princely birth.
For clothes and costly jewels are provided
Already, laid in splendid cabinets,
The keys of which he guards with jealous care,
And thinks he keeps a perfect mystery.
But we are in his secret and prepar’d.
What we have schem’d must quickly now be done.
This evening thou’lt hear more. Till then farewell.
On dubious paths ye work, on mischief bent,
And think ye see a profit in your plans.
Has no suspicion ever cross’d your mind
That over guilt and innocence there hovers
A Being from whose essence streams avenging
A light divine that rescues the oppress’d?
Who dares gainsay the ruling Providence
That shapes conformably to his own will
The outcome of our deeds whate’er they be?
Yet who presumes to make himself an arbiter
In God’s high councils? Who can know
The rule and law by which his fiat works?
We have our reason, and in stature grown
We walk erect upon the face of earth,
And our advantage is our highest right.
Thus are ye traitors to the godlike
If ye despise the dictates of the heart!
It calls me boldly to ward off the danger
That hangs with horrid threat’ning o’er my darling;
It bids me arm myself against my lover,
Against the base designs that strong men harbor!
No glittering promise and no threats shall force me
To leave my rightful place beside my pupil:
Thus do I stand devoted to protect her.
Ah! sweetest, thou alone canst give her safety,
And thou alone the danger canst avert
And at the selfsame time assist our plan.
Lay hold upon her swiftly; take the maiden
As far as possible away, conceal her
That no one know her habitation! Else—
(Thou tremblest—for thou knowest well
The words upon my lips!) Since thou hast forc’d me
Let the alternative at last be said:—
Removal with her is the mildest measure—
If thou refusest to co-operate,
If thou art minded secretly to check us,
And if thou darest, out of friendly purpose,
To drop the slightest hint of what I tell thee,
Then dead she lies upon thy bosom! What
Would fill my heart with sorrow must be done!