Only bethink thee!
One step more, and thou art free.
Margaret.
Would we were past that mountain gray!
There sits my mother on a stone—
I feel a hand that pulls me back
As cold as clay!
There sits my mother on a stone;
Her head sways heavily;
She winks not, she nods not, her head she may not raise.
She slept so long, she never more may wake.
She slept that we might our enjoyment take.
O these were happy days!
Faust.
Here words and prayers will only make things worse;
Come! come; or I must hale thee hence by force.
Margaret.
Let me alone! lay no rough hands on me!
Nor with such murderous clutches seize me!
Thou know’st I have done everything to please thee.
Faust.
The day dawns. Come, my Gretchen, follow me!
Margaret.
Day! yes, it is day! the Judgment-day breaks in!
My marriage-day it should have been!
Let no one know thou wert before with Margaret.
Woe to my wreath!
’Tis done! oh, pain!
We will meet again;
But not at the dance.
The thronging crowds advance
With bated breath;
No word is spoken;
The squares, the streets,
Cannot contain them all.
The bell doth call,
The staff is broken,
They bind me with cords, they drag me away,
And on the bloody block me lay;
And every trembling eye doth quake
At the blade that is brandished o’er my neck.
Mute lies the world as the grave!
Faust.
O had I ne’er been born!
Mephistopheles. [appearing from without]
Up! or no help can save!
Profitless whining, whimpering, and prating!
Meanwhile my eager steeds are waiting,
Snuffing the scent of the morning air.
Margaret.
