XXV
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, Clarke, Harry, and Taylor, Bayard
Delay, now! So fain I stay, when thou delayest!
(Caressing him.)
FAUST
Away, now! If longer here thou stayest, We shall be made to dearly rue it.
MARGARET
Kiss me!—canst no longer do it? My friend, so short a time thou’rt missing, And hast unlearned thy kissing? Why is my heart so anxious, on thy breast? Where once a heaven thy glances did create me, A heaven thy loving words expressed, And thou didst kiss, as thou wouldst suffocate me— Kiss me! Or I’ll kiss thee!
(She embraces him.)
Ah, woe! thy lips are chill, And still. How changed in fashion Thy passion! Who has done me this ill?
(She turns away from him.)
FAUST
Come, follow me! My darling, be more bold: I’ll clasp thee, soon, with warmth a thousand-fold; But follow now! ’Tis all I beg of thee.
MARGARET (turning to him)
And is it thou? Thou, surely, certainly?
FAUST
’Tis I! Come on!
MARGARET
Thou wilt unloose my chain,
And in thy lap wilt take me once again. How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?— Say, dost thou know, my friend, whom thou mak’st free?
FAUST
Come! come! The night already vanisheth.
MARGARET
My mother have I put to death; I’ve drowned the baby born to thee. Was it not given to thee and me? Thee, too!—’Tis thou! It scarcely true doth seem— Give me thy hand! ’Tis not a dream! Thy dear, dear hand!—But, ah, ’tis wet! Why, wipe it off! Methinks that yet There’s blood thereon. Ah, God! what hast thou done? Nay, sheathe thy sword at last! Do not affray me!
FAUST
O, let the past be past! Thy words will slay me!
MARGARET
No, no! Thou must outlive us. Now I’ll tell thee the graves to give us: Thou must begin to-morrow The work of sorrow! The best place give to my mother, Then close at her side my brother, And me a little away, But not too very far, I pray! And here, on my right breast, my baby lay! Nobody else will lie beside me!— Ah, within thine arms to hide me, That was a sweet and a gracious bliss, But no more, no more can I attain it! I would force myself on thee and constrain it, And it seems thou repellest my kiss: And yet ’tis thou, so good, so kind to see!
FAUST
If thou feel’st it is I, then come with me!
MARGARET
Out yonder?
FAUST
To freedom.
MARGARET
If the grave is there, Death lying in wait, then come! From here to eternal rest: No further step—no, no! Thou goest away! O Henry, if I could go!
FAUST
Thou canst! Just will it! Open stands the door.
MARGARET
I dare not go: there’s no hope any more. Why should I fly? They’ll still my steps waylay! It is so wretched, forced to beg my living, And a bad conscience sharper misery giving! It is so wretched, to be strange, forsaken, And I’d still be followed and taken!
FAUST
I’ll stay with thee.