Where is the love thy swelling bosom bore
Whilome for me? why are thy lips so cold?
[She turns away from him.
Faust.
Come with me, sweet love, come!
I’ll hug thee ten times closer than before,
Only come with me now! Come, I implore!
Margaret. [turning to him]
Art thou then he? Art thou then truly he?
Faust.
’Tis I, in truth. Come, love, and follow me.
Margaret.
And these vile chains thou breakest,
And me again unto thy bosom takest?
How canst thou dare to turn fond eyes on me?
Know’st thou then, Henry, whom thou com’st to free?
Faust.
Come, come! the night sinks fast; come, follow me!
Margaret.
My mother slept a sleep profound!
I drugged her to’t;
My little babe I drowned!
Was it not heaven’s boon to me and thee?
Thee, too!—’tis thou! I scarce may deem
My sense speaks true. Give me thy hand!
It is no dream!
Thy dear, dear hand!
Alas! but it is wet!
Wipe it; for it is wet
With blood! O God! what hast thou done?
Put up thy sword;
I pray thee put it up.
Faust.
Let gone be gone!
Thou stabbest me with daggers, every word.
Margaret.
No! thou shalt survive our sorrow!
I will describe the graves to thee,
Where thou shalt bury them and me
To-morrow.
