{"product_id":"faust-isbn-9780140449020","title":"Faust","description":"In this sequel to \u003ci\u003eFaust\u003c\/i\u003e, Mephistopheles takes Faust on a journey through ancient Greek mythology, conjuring for him the insurpassably beautiful Helen of Troy, as well as the classical gods. Faust falls in love with and marries Helen, embodying for Goethe his 'imaginative longing to join poetically the Romantic Medievalism of the germanic West to the classical genius of the Greeks'. Further to the themes of redemption and salvation in this great drama, are Goethe's eerie premonitions of modern phenomena such as inflation and the creation of life by scientific synthesis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.\" One of those great works of literature into which a writer has been able to combine his ranging preoccupations and understanding as he worked.\" \u003cbr\u003e-A. S. Byatt, from the Preface\u003cb\u003eJohann Wolfgang Goethe\u003c\/b\u003e was born in 1749. He studied at Leipzig, where he showed interest in the occult, and at Strassburg, where Herder introduced him to Shakespeare's works and to folk poetry. He produced some essays and lyrical verse, and at twenty-four came to fame as part of the Sturm und Drang movement - a position established on the publication of The Sorrows of Young Werther. Goethe worked on Faust throughout his life, while travelling through Italy and returning to Weimar, where he directed the State Theatre. He died in 1832.\u003ci\u003eDedication One\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWavering forms, you come again;\u003cbr\u003eonce long ago you passed before my clouded sight.\u003cbr\u003eShould I now attempt to hold you fast?\u003cbr\u003eDoes my heart still look for phantoms?\u003cbr\u003eYou surge at me! Well, then you may rule\u003cbr\u003eas you rise about me out of mist and cloud.\u003cbr\u003eThe airy magic in your path\u003cbr\u003estirs youthful tremors in my breast.\u003cbr\u003eYou bear the images of happy days,\u003cbr\u003eand friendly shadows rise to mind.      \u003cbr\u003eWith them, as in an almost muted tale,\u003cbr\u003ecome youthful love and friendship.\u003cbr\u003eThe pain is felt anew, and the lament\u003cbr\u003esounds life's labyrinthine wayward course\u003cbr\u003eand tells of friends who went before me\u003cbr\u003eand whom fate deprived of joyous hours.\u003cbr\u003eThey cannot hear the songs which follow,\u003cbr\u003ethe souls to whom I sang my first,\u003cbr\u003escattered is the genial crowd,\u003cbr\u003ethe early echo, ah, has died away.      \u003cbr\u003eNow my voice sings for the unknown many\u003cbr\u003ewhose very praise intimidates my heart.\u003cbr\u003eThe living whom my song once charmed\u003cbr\u003eare now dispersed throughout the world.\u003cbr\u003eAnd I am seized by long forgotten yearnings\u003cbr\u003efor the solemn, silent world of spirits;\u003cbr\u003eas on an aeolian harp my whispered song\u003cbr\u003elingers now in vagrant tones.\u003cbr\u003eI shudder, and a tear draws other tears;\u003cbr\u003emy austere heart grows soft and gentle. \u003cbr\u003eWhat I possess appears far in the distance,\u003cbr\u003eand what is past has turned into reality.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePrelude in the Theater\u003cbr\u003eManager, Dramatic Poet, Comic Character.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003eManager\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou two who often stood by me\u003cbr\u003ein times of hardship and of gloom,\u003cbr\u003ewhat do you think our enterprise\u003cbr\u003eshould bring to German lands and people?\u003cbr\u003eI want the crowd to be well satisfied,\u003cbr\u003efor, as you know, it lives and lets us live.\u003cbr\u003eThe boards are nailed, the stage is set,\u003cbr\u003eand all the world looks for a lavish feast.     \u003cbr\u003eThere they sit, with eyebrows raised,\u003cbr\u003eand calmly wait to be astounded.\u003cbr\u003eI have my ways to keep the people well disposed,\u003cbr\u003ebut never was I in a fix like this.\u003cbr\u003eIt's true, they're not accustomed to the best,\u003cbr\u003eyet they have read an awful lot of things.\u003cbr\u003eHow shall we plot a new and fresh approach\u003cbr\u003eand make things pleasant and significant?\u003cbr\u003eI'll grant, it pleases me to watch the crowds,\u003cbr\u003eas they stream and hustle to our tent   \u003cbr\u003eand with mighty and repeated labors\u003cbr\u003epress onward through the narrow gate of grace;\u003cbr\u003ewhile the sun still shines--it's scarcely four o'clock--\u003cbr\u003ethey fight and scramble for the ticket window,\u003cbr\u003eand as if in famine begging at the baker's door,\u003cbr\u003ethey almost break their necks to gain admission.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe poet alone can work this miracle\u003cbr\u003eon such a diverse group. My friend, the time is now!\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePoet\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOh, speak no more of motley crowds to me,\u003cbr\u003etheir presence makes my spirit flee.    \u003cbr\u003eVeil from my sight those waves and surges\u003cbr\u003ethat suck us down into their raging pools.\u003cbr\u003eTake me rather to a quiet little cell\u003cbr\u003ewhere pure delight blooms only for the poet,\u003cbr\u003ewhere our inmost joy is blessed and fostered\u003cbr\u003eby love and friendship and the hand of God.\u003cbr\u003eAlas! What sprang from our deepest feelings,\u003cbr\u003ewhat our lips tried timidly to form,\u003cbr\u003efailing now and now perhaps succeeding,\u003cbr\u003eis devoured by a single brutish moment. 70\u003cbr\u003eOften it must filter through the years\u003cbr\u003ebefore its final form appears perfected.\u003cbr\u003eWhat gleams like tinsel is but for the moment.\u003cbr\u003eWhat's true remains intact for future days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eComedian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOh, save me from such talk of future days!\u003cbr\u003eSuppose I were concerned with progeny,\u003cbr\u003ethen who would cheer our present generation?\u003cbr\u003eIt lusts for fun and should be gratified.\u003cbr\u003eA fine young fellow in the present tense\u003cbr\u003eis worth a lot when all is said and done.       \u003cbr\u003eIf he can charm and make the public feel at ease,\u003cbr\u003ehe will not mind its changing moods;\u003cbr\u003ehe seeks the widest circle for himself,\u003cbr\u003eso that his act will thereby be more telling.\u003cbr\u003eAnd now be smart and show your finest qualities,\u003cbr\u003elet fantasy be heard with all its many voices.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eManager\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbove all, let there be sufficient action!\u003cbr\u003eThey come to gaze and wish to see a spectacle.  \u003cbr\u003eIf many things reel off before their eyes,\u003cbr\u003eso that the mob can gape and be astounded,\u003cbr\u003ethen you will sway the great majority\u003cbr\u003eand be a very popular man.\u003cbr\u003eThe mass can only be subdued by massiveness,\u003cbr\u003eso each can pick a morsel for himself.\u003cbr\u003eA large amount contains enough for everyone,\u003cbr\u003eand each will leave contented with his share.\u003cbr\u003eGive us the piece you write in pieces!\u003cbr\u003eTry your fortune with a potpourri       \u003cbr\u003ethat's quickly made and easily dished out.\u003cbr\u003eWhat good is it to sweat and to create a whole?\u003cbr\u003eThe audience will yet pick the thing to pieces.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePoet\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou do not feel the baseness of such handiwork.\u003cbr\u003eHow improper for an artist worth his salt!\u003cbr\u003eI see, the botchery of your neat companions\u003cbr\u003ehas been the maxim of your enterprise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003eManager\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuch reproaches leave me unperturbed.\u003cbr\u003eA man who wants to make his mark\u003cbr\u003emust try to wield the best of tools.    \u003cbr\u003eYou have coarse wood to split, remember that;\u003cbr\u003econsider those for whom you write!\u003cbr\u003eA customer may come because he's bored,\u003cbr\u003eanother may have had too much to eat;\u003cbr\u003eand what I most of all abhor:\u003cbr\u003esome have just put down their evening paper.\u003cbr\u003eThey hurry here distracted, as to a masquerade,\u003cbr\u003eand seek us out from mere curiosity.\u003cbr\u003eThe ladies come to treat the audience to their charms\u003cbr\u003eand play their parts without a salary.  \u003cbr\u003eNow are you still a dreamer on poetic heights?\u003cbr\u003eAnd yet content when our house is filled?\u003cbr\u003eObserve your benefactors at close range!\u003cbr\u003eSome are crude, the others cold as ice.\u003cbr\u003eAnd when it's finished, this one wants a deck of cards\u003cbr\u003eand that one pleasure in a whore's embrace.\u003cbr\u003eWhy then invoke and plague the muses\u003cbr\u003efor such a goal as this, poor fools?\u003cbr\u003eI say to you, give more and more and always more,\u003cbr\u003eand then you cannot miss by very much.  \u003cbr\u003eYou must attempt to mystify the people,\u003cbr\u003ethey're much too hard to satisfy--\u003cbr\u003eWhat's got into you--are you anguished or ecstatic\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ePoet\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGo find yourself another slave!\u003cbr\u003eThe poet, I suppose, should wantonly give back,\u003cbr\u003eso you'd be pleased, the highest right\u003cbr\u003ethat Nature granted him, the right of Man!\u003cbr\u003eHow does the poet stir all hearts?\u003cbr\u003eHow does he conquer every element?\u003cbr\u003eIs it not the music welling from his heart      \u003cbr\u003ethat draws the world into his breast again?\u003cbr\u003eWhen Nature spins with unconcern\u003cbr\u003ethe endless thread and winds it on the spindle,\u003cbr\u003ewhen the discordant mass of living things\u003cbr\u003esounds its sullen dark cacophony,\u003cbr\u003ewho divides the flowing changeless line,\u003cbr\u003einfusing life, and gives it pulse and rhythm?\u003cbr\u003eWho summons each to common consecration\u003cbr\u003ewhere each will sound in glorious harmony?\u003cbr\u003eWho bids the storm accompany the passions,      \u003cbr\u003ethe sunset cast its glow on solemn thought?\u003cbr\u003eWho scatters every fairest April blossom\u003cbr\u003ealong the path of his beloved?\u003cbr\u003eWho braids from undistinguished verdant leaves\u003cbr\u003ea wreath to honor merit?\u003cbr\u003eWho safeguards Mount Olympus, who unites the gods?\u003cbr\u003eMan's power which in the poet stands revealed!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eComedian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003eVery well, then put to use those handsome powers\u003cbr\u003eand carry on the poet's trade,\u003cbr\u003eas one would carry on a love affair.    \u003cbr\u003eOne meets by accident, emotes, and lingers,\u003cbr\u003eand by and by one is entangled,\u003cbr\u003eone's bliss increases, then one is in trouble;\u003cbr\u003eone's rapture grows, then follow grief and pain,\u003cbr\u003ebefore you know, your story is completed.\u003cbr\u003eWe must present a drama of this type!\u003cbr\u003eReach for the fullness of a human life!\u003cbr\u003eWe live it all, but few live knowingly;\u003cbr\u003eif you but touch it, it will fascinate.\u003cbr\u003eA complex picture without clarity,      \u003cbr\u003emuch error with a little spark of truth--\u003cbr\u003ethat's the recipe to brew the potion\u003cbr\u003ewhence all the world is quenched and edified.\u003cbr\u003eThe fairest bloom of youth will congregate\u003cbr\u003eto see the play and wait for revelation;\u003cbr\u003ethen every tender soul will eagerly absorb\u003cbr\u003esome food for melancholy from your work.\u003cbr\u003eFirst one and then another thing is stirred,\u003cbr\u003eso each can find what's in his heart.","brand":"Penguin Classics","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300906553573,"sku":"NP9780140449020","price":15.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780140449020.jpg?v=1767726774","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/faust-isbn-9780140449020","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}