MARGARET (throws herself beside him)

Oh, let us kneel and move the saints by prayer! 
Look! look! yon stairs below,
Under the threshold there,
Hell’s flames are all aglow! 
Beneath the floor,
With hideous noise,
The devils roar!

FAUST (aloud)

Gretchen!  Gretchen!

MARGARET (listening)

That was my lov’d one’s voice!

[She springs up, the chains fall off.]

Where is he?  I heard him calling me. 
Free am I!  There’s none shall hinder me. 
To his neck will I fly,
On his bosom will lie! 
Gretchen, he called!—­On yon threshold he stood;
Amidst all the howling of hell’s fiery flood,
The scoff and the scorn of its devilish crew,
The tones of his voice, sweet and loving, I knew.

FAUST

’Tis I!

MARGARET

’Tis thou!  O say so once again!
[embracing him.]
’Tis he!  ’Tis he! where’s now the torturing pain? 
Where are the fetters? where the dungeon’s gloom? 
’Tis thou!  To save me thou art come! 
And I am sav’d!—­
Already now the street I see
Where the first time I caught a glimpse of thee. 
There to the pleasant garden shade,
Where I and Martha for thy coming stay’d.

FAUST (endeavoring to lead her away)

Come! come away!

MARGARET

Oh do not haste! 
I love to linger where thou stayest. [caressing him.]

FAUST

Ah haste!  For if thou still delayest,
Our lingering we shall both deplore.

MARGARET

How, dearest? canst thou kiss no more! 
So short a time away from me, and yet,
To kiss thou couldst so soon forget! 
Why on thy neck so anxious do I feel—­
When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss
From thy dear looks and words would o’er me steal? 
As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss!—­
Kiss me! 
Or I’ll kiss thee! [She embraces him.]
Woe! woe!  Thy lips are cold,—­
Are dumb! 
Thy love where hast thou left? 
Who hath me of thy love bereft?

[She turns away from him.]

FAUST

Come!  Follow me, my dearest love, be bold! 
I’ll cherish thee with ardor thousand-fold;
I but entreat thee now to follow me!

MARGARET (turning toward him)

And art thou he? and art thou really he?

FAUST

’Tis I!  Oh come!

MARGARET

Thou wilt strike off my chain,
And thou wilt take me to thine arms again. 
How comes it that thou dost not shrink from me?—­
And dost thou know, love, whom thou wouldst set free?