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THE SPECTRE DEGREE.

A MYSTERY.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

GEORGE FAUST. - A student, Senior.

MEPHISTO. - Poetical for the Old Nick.

MARGUERITE.

SCENE I. - THE COMPACT.

FAUST, alone in his study; books are strewn about the room; chemical retorts and burettes lie on the table; FAUST holds a skull in his hand.

FAUST. How shall the student

Get his degree?

Though he be prudent,

He cannot be free

From vile conditions

Of Freshman year!

Fell apparitions

They rise to me here.

He may be stolid,

And say he don't care,

But he will find "Solid"

Before him will glare;

Will pester his pleasures,

And weigh on his life

Like devil-curst treasures

That only bring strife.

Here have I sought for full three years and more

To banish from me ev'ry thought of care;

Have said that those conditions should be past

Ere as a Senior I stalked o'er the Yard.

A life of ease and merriment I spent

(And shekels too, an' but the truth were known),

I've joined in all the dinners, parties, scrapes,

That make and mar the present college man;

I've sought both high and low - like fools of old

For philosophic stone - the Heliotrope

By which sans toil to capture a degree.

Bohn, and electives mollified, have been

But as delusions to my artless mind;

They found me able, they have left me dull,

Now nought remains but gently break the news

To those at home, - then westward ho! for me.

(A smell of sulphur, a thick smoke, and then a supernatural being appears.)

Ha! what is that? a demon or a sprite?

MEPHISTO. I am Mephisto, a friend to the needy;

I heard thee bewailing, and here come to thee

To offer conditions - if thou art not too greedy -

By which thou may'st get thy wished-for degree.

I'll hand thee the sheep-skin - a pretty cum laude -

By all the professors and president signed,

And tied with pink ribbon, quite neat, but not gaudy,

And written in Latin, - the best you can find.

I'll have thy name seen in the Hub's Advertiser,

And even throw in there an honor or two;

And none in this world shall be ever the wiser,

If what I now ask thou wilt willingly do.

FAUST(aside). Oh! Perplexity! can it be right

Aught to accept from one so dark and dread!

And yet if I but get the parchment signed,

Where is the odds? - I do conjure thee, speak!

MEPH. I ask thee to use, in return for this favor,

Thy thoughts in my service a year and a day,

To call me thy comrade, and not thy enslaver,

And all I command thee at once to obey.

But if, foolish mortal, thou art not obedient,

Be sure that my anger shall fall on thy head!

This counsel I give thee to make it expedient

To follow most strictly the words I have said.

Thy actions I bind not with order or fetter,

Eat, drink, and be merry, my future A.B.,

The more thou art happy, thou pleasest me better,

For I am not cruel, as now thou may'st see!

So follow your wishes, not knowing compunction,

Envy of mortals who struggle above;

But never forget this, my only injunction,

Beware of the danger of falling in love.

[Disappears.]FAUST. I fall in love! To whom? My heart is hard

As adamant before the fickle fair,

So I the compact will observe, ard now

May give my time to other thoughts than those

Of dull geometry and stupid Greek.

SCENE II. - DOUBT.

The day after Commencement.

FAUST. There is that devil-wrought degree, and there

My name is printed in the newspapers.

That goal is won! but ah, alas! how dear,

Since for a half year I must tarry yet

Ere I can sue sweet Marguerite! Oh woe!

I who once boasted of an icy heart

Now madly love the fairest of the fair,

But may not yet my passion tell to her,

Else my degree is forfeit to the D.

Without it Meg will not accept my hand.

Now what to do? or whither now to turn?

My heart gives answer, though my reason flies.

I'll tell her all, and brave the demon's wrath.

[Weird voices are heard.]

Mortal, beware,

Have a care,

For a snare

Doth prepare!

Mephisto will come in his terrible ire,

And carry thy sheep-skin away!

Thou losest by this thy former desire,

We warn thee, oh man, to obey!

Mortals must heed when Mephisto commands,

To spurn him were foolishness quite -

Not one of you fellows, poor fools! understands

The charm that can conquer his might.

SCENE III. - LOVE CONQUERS.

FAUST and MARGUERITE.

FAUST (sings). There was a fellow at Harvard

Was wont to parties to go;

He met there often a maiden

To love whom he was not slow.

She gave him a little ribbon

That on her chignon did wave;

He took it, and swore he would keep it

Till laid away in his grave.

They both are youthful and happy,

And he now sits by her side,

But think it not strange when I tell you

That she is to be his bride.

MARGUERITE. O Faust, how touching is that ballad!

FAUST. Yes,

Because, my love, 'tis true!

MARGUERITE. And your degree

You say you got by some mysterious way?

FAUST. Yes. Hush! I see Mephisto rise to claim

Me for his own! Oh horror! Demon, speak!

MEPH. You are my minion for a six-month more;

Your parchment will I burn, - 'tis forfeit!

I now command you come and follow me.

FAUST (laughing). Nay, good Mephisto, storm and rage at will,

The sheep-skin now I value not a whit,

For love is worth a world of such vile things,

And love and I are one! So get thee gone.

MEPH. I bid thee leave, and follow my command.

FAUST. Nay, you forget there is one power above

Thine own rebellious might - and that is love.

O'er that thou hast no sway! Ha! ha! you quake!

MEPH. Fool that I was to think he would not find

That over Cupid I indeed am weak!

I had deceived thee, and by just return

I am myself undone! So fare thee well!

[Exit.]FAUST. Thus triumphs love!

CHORUS.

There is one little passion that conquers the world,

'Tis ruled by the gay archer Cupid;

And Mephisto himself, with his knowledge unfurled,

At best is a vagabond stupid.

FAUST. When the birds are in their nest,

And the bee has gone to rest,

And the wind is lulled to sleep;

When the glistening dew is falling,

And the nightingale is calling,

And the evening planets peep;

When the waves upon the shore

Change their dashing and their roar

To a distant murmur sweet;

When the twilight shadows thicken, -

Then my footsteps I will quicken -

To thy side, my Marguerite.

REY.

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