"Tis shame, 'tis torment, 'tis despair. DÆMON. But how Canst thou defend thyself from that or me, JUSTINA. My defence Consists in God. [He vainly endeavours to force her, and at last releases her. DEMON. Woman, thou hast subdued me, Only by not owning thyself subdued. But since thou thus findest defence in God, First by dishonouring thee, and then by turning False pleasure to true ignominy. [Exit JUSTINA. I Appeal to Heaven against thee! so that Heaven May scatter thy delusions, and the blot Even as flame dies in the envious air, Livia! Enter LISANDER and Livia. LISANDER. O my daughter; what? LIVIA. What? JUSTINA. Saw you A man go forth from my apartment now ?— I scarce sustain myself! LISANDER. A man here! JUSTINA Have you not seen him? LIVIA. No, lady. JUSTINA. I saw him. LISANDER. 'Tis impossible; the doors Which led to this apartment were all locked. LIVIA (aside.) I dare say it was Moscon whom she saw, LISANDER. It must Have been some image of thy phantasy. LIVIA. My master 's in the right. JUSTINA. O, would it were Delusion! but I fear some greater ill. Some mortal spell is wrought against my frame With willing steps.-Livia, quick, bring my cloak, For I must seek refuge from these extremes Here. LIVIA. JUSTINA (putting on her cloak.) In this, as in a shroud of snow, may I Quench the consuming fire in which I burn, Wasting away! LISANDER And I will go with thee. LIVIA. When I once see them safe out of the house, I shall breathe freely. JUSTINA. So do I confide In thy just favour, Heaven! LISANDER. Let us go. JUSTINA. Thine is the cause, great God! Turn, for my sake And for thine own, mercifully to me! SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. The LORD and the Host of Heaven. Enter Three Archangels. RAPHAEL. THE sun makes music as of old With thunder speed; the Angels even GABRIEL. And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, The adorned Earth spins silently, Alternating Elysian brightness With deep and dreadful night; the sea Foams in broad billows from the deep Up to the rocks; and rocks and ocean, Onward, with spheres which never sleep, Are hurried in eternal motion. |