_Gott._ Oh, for shame! for shame! To hold the world to be a hollow world Because one heart has proved a hollow heart! Now hear a parable. But ten days since, A swindling huckster gave me a bad ducat; Now, by my head, I thought that ducat good: It seemed so fair and bright--and as it lay Upon my open palm, I read thereon A pious legend, drawn from Holy Writ! Believing that a ducat, wreathed about With such a goodly warrant, could not lie, I loved that ducat, and I trusted it! Well, well, the ducat proved to be but base. With a deep sigh--for gold is scarce with me-- I cast that ducat from me. But did I, On that account, forswear _all_ ducats? No! My love for ducats--and my need of them-- Are just as keen as ever! _Faus._ Peace, old friend. I am a priest, who once forswore the world Because he thought all women false. Think you That being priest, and sitting day by day In yon confessional, I have seen cause to hold my judgment cheap? _Gott._ Plague on thy judgments! Judgments ready-made Are counterparts of garments ready-made, That fit some well, some ill, some not at all. I know a maiden, scarce eighteen years old, Fair as the apple-green of early dawn, Pure as the summer sun of southern heaven; A psalm incarnate--an embodied prayer, Not of the earth, yet dwelling thereupon; Nor yet of heaven--although her mission be To teach mankind that heaven is worth the winning. I have seen sturdy brawlers sheath their blades To humbly doff their hats at her approach; And when she’s fairly out of hearing, then Draw a long breath and go their ways in peace, As though the air were charged with loving-kindness. Rude gallants, in whose eyes all womankind Are but the subjects of licentious jest, Stand back abashed as Gretchen passes by, And hush their converse into decency. Young wanton girls weep tears of honest shame, And old men think of angels and the heaven That is to crown their closing pilgrimage! _Faus._ (_interested_). Who is this maiden? _Gott._ My dead uncle’s child, An orphan, dwelling twenty leagues away. _Faus._ Thou lovest her? _Gott._ Ay, as I love the truth-- As I love purity and innocence-- As I love heaven and the good life to come! _Faus._ Well, well--go on--she is thy kinswoman. Thou hast a goodly presence--and I know Thy heart is honest. Thou hast told thy love? _Gott._ I, dare to speak of love to Gretchen? No! I’m a rough soldier--barrack-born and bred. My life’s a tavern life--- my closest friends Are all rough soldiers; and the air I breathe Reeks with unholy jests and fumes of wine! I, dare to speak of love to Gretchen? Why, My tongue would shrivel at the blasphemy!