And yet thou art the same and yet thy looks
Are good and kind, as they have ever been.

FAUSTUS.

Oh, if thou feelest that 'tis I, come, come.

Come, come; the gates are open, only come.

MARGARET.

I dare not go; there is no help for me.
What good is it to fly? My steps are watched.
It is a hard thing to be forced to beg,

And harder, harassed by an evil conscience.
'Tis hard to wander in a foreign land,

And then, whate'er I do, at last they'll seize me.

I will be with thee.

FAUSTUS.

MARGARET (wildly).
Fly, fly,

Save thy poor child;
Away to the road,

By the side of the stream,

And across the path

That leads to the wood;

Then turn to the left,

And over the plank,

He lies in the pond.
Loiter not, linger not,
Still does he stir

With the motion of life.

His little hands struggle

More faintly and faintly,

Rescue him! rescue him!

Oh, that we once had left yon hill behind!

See there, my mother sitting on a stone

Icy-cold comes a dead hand on my temples.
My mother there is sitting on a stone,

And her grey head is trembling, and her eyes
Close, and she now has ceased to nod; her head
Looks heavy, and she sleeps too long — too long —
Oh, when she sank to sleep how blest we were!
It was a happy time!

FAUSTUS.

She listens not;

Words have no weight with her; there is no way, But forcibly to bear her hence.

MARGARET.

Touch me not; no, I will not suffer violence:

Seize me not with that murderer's grasp; whate'er I did was done for thee, my love. I did

Every thing my love asked me, willingly.

Day! yes, 'tis day, the last, the judgment-day;
My bridal-day it should have been; tell none
That thou hast been with poor weak Margaret.
Alas! my garland is already withered;
We'll meet again, but not at dances, love:
The crowd is gathering tumultuously,

The square and street are thronged with crushing

thousands;

The bell hath sounded; the death-wand is broken ;

They bind and blindfold me, and force me on:

On to the scaffold they have hurried me ;
Down in the chair of blood they fasten me:

And now, through every neck of all that multitude
Is felt the bitter wound that severs mine.
The world is now as silent as the grave!

FAUSTUS.

Oh, that I never had been born!

MEPHISTOPHELES (appears at the door).

Away, or you are lost;

This trembling, and delay, and idle chattering,
Will be your ruin; hence, or you are lost;
My horses shiver in the chilling breeze
Of the grey morning.

MARGARET.

What shape is that which rises from the earth? 'Tis he, 'tis he, oh, send him from this place; What wants he here? Oh, what can bring him here?

Why does he tread on consecrated ground?

He comes for me.

FAUSTUS.

Oh, thou shalt live, my love.

Y

MARGARET.

Upon the judgment-throne of God, I call;
On God I call in humble supplication.

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUSTUS).

Come, or I leave thee here to share her fate.

MARGARET.

Father of heaven, have mercy on thy child.
Ye angels, holy hosts, keep watch around me.
Henry I am afraid to look at thee.

MEPHISTOPHeles.

Come she is judged!

VOICE (from above).

Is saved.

MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUSTUS).

Hither to me!

[Disappears with FAUSTUS.

VOICE (from within dying away).

Henry! Henry!