To his neck will I fly!
On his bosom lie!
He called me his Gretchen! he stood at the door.
Through the wild howling and hissing of Hell,
Through the loud-laughing scorn and the fiendish uproar,
Came the sweet voice of love that I know so well.
Faust.
’Tis I!
Margaret.
’Tis thou! O say it yet again! [Clasping him.]
’Tis he! ’tis he! Where now is all my pain?
Where all my prison’s woe? my fetters where?
’Tis he! he comes to lift me from this lair
Of wretchedness! I’m free, I’m free!
Already the well-known street I see,
Where the first time I spake to thee,
And the pleasant garden, where
Martha and I did wait for thee.
Faust. [striving forward]
Come, come!
Margaret.
O stay, stay!
Thou know’st how pleased I stay where thou dost stay.
[Caressing him.
Faust.
Away, away!
Unless we haste,
Dearly we’ll pay for these few moments’ waste.
Margaret.
How! giv’st thou me no kiss?
My friend, so very short a space away,
And hast forgot to kiss?
Why feel I now so straitened when I hold
Thee in my arms? It was not so of old,
When from thy words and looks, a heaven of bliss
Came down; and thou didst kiss
As thou would’st smother me. Come, kiss me! kiss!
Else kiss I thee! [She embraces him.]
O woe! thy lips are cold,
Are dumb;
