DUNGEON. FAUST, (with a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron wicket.) A tremor, long unfelt, seizes me; the concentrated misery of mankind fastens on me. Here, behind these damp walls, is her dwelling-place, and her crime was a good delusion! Thou tremblest to go to her! Thou fearest to see her again! On! thy irresolution lingers death hitherwards. (He takes hold of the lock.-Singing within.) My mother, the whore, She was the death of me! My father, the rogue, He ate me up! My little sister Picked up the bones At a cool place! There I became a beautiful little wood-bird. Fly away! fly away! FAUST (opening the lock.) She has no presentiment that her lover is listening, hears the chains clank, the straw rustle. (He enters.) MARGARET (hiding her face in the bed of straw.) Woe! woe! They come. Bitter death! Hush! hush! I come to free thee. MARGARET (throwing herself before him.) If thou art human, feel for my FAUST. wretchedness. You will wake the guard by your cries! (He takes hold of the chains to unlock them.) MARGARET (on her knees.) Who has given thee, executioner, this power over me? You come for me whilst it is yet midnight. Be merciful and let me live. Is not to-morrow morning time enough? (She stands up.) I am yet so young, so young! and am to die already! I was fair, too, and that was my undoing! My truelove was near, he is now far away. Torn lies the garland, scattered the flowers. Don't take hold of me so roughly! Spare me! What have I done to you? Let me not implore in vain. I never saw you before in all my life, you know! FAUST. Shall I survive this misery? MARGARET. I am now entirely in thy power. Only let me first give suck to the child. I pressed it this whole night to my heart. They took it away to vex me, and say now, I killed it. And I shall never be happy again. They sing songs upon me! It is wicked of the people. An old tale ends so,-who bids them apply it? FAUST throws himself down. A lover lies at thy feet, to unloose the bonds of wretchedness. MARGARET throws herself by his side. Aye, let us kneel to invoke the saints. See, under these steps, under the threshold, hell is seething. The Evil One, with fearful fury, is making a din! FAUST exclaiming. Margaret! Margaret! MARGARET listening. That was my true-love's voice. (She springs up. The chains fall off.) Where is he? I heard him call. I am free! Nobody shall hinder me. I will fly to his neck! lie on his bosom! He called Margaret! He stood upon the threshold. In the midst, through the howling and clattering of hell, through the grim devilish scoffing, I recognised the sweet, the loving tone. 'Tis I. FAUST. MARGARET. 'Tis thou! Ah, say so once again! (clasping him.) 'Tis he! 'Tis he! Whither is all my wretchedness? Whither the agony of the dungeon?-the chains? 'Tis thou! Thou com'st to save me. I am saved!-There again already is the street, where I saw you for the first time; and the cheerful garden, where I and Martha waited for you. FAUST, striving to take her away. Come along! come along! MARGARET. Oh tarry! I like to tarry where thou tarriest. FAUST. (caressing him.) Haste! If you do not make haste, we shall pay dearly for it. MARGARET. What! you can no longer kiss? So short a time away from me, my love, and already forgotten how to kiss? Why do I feel so sad upon your neck? when, in other times, a whole heaven came over me from your words, your looks; and you kissed me as if you were going to smother me! Kiss me! or I will kiss you! (She embraces him.) O woe! your lips are cold,-a you -are dumb. Where have left your love? who has robbed me of it? (She turns from him.) FAUST. Come! follow me! take courage, my love. I will press thee to my heart with thousandfold warmthonly follow me! I ask thee but this. MARGARET, (turning to him.) And is it thou, then? And is it thou, indeed? FAUST. 'Tis I. Come along! MARGARET. You undo the fetters, you take me to your bosom again! How comes it that you are not afraid of me? And do you then know, my love, whom you are freeing? FAUST. Come, come, the depth of night is already passing away. MARGARET. I have killed my mother, I have drowned my child. Was it not bestowed on thee and me?-on thee too? 'Tis thou! I scarcely believe it. Give me thy hand. It is no dream, thy dear hand!—but oh, 'tis damp! wipe it off. As it seems to me, there is blood on it. Oh, God, what hast thou done? Put up thy sword! pray thee, do! I |