Faust. Come! Come with me!
Gretchen. O stay!... I am so happy at thy side.... What! not one kiss!... Ah, woe, thy lips are cold. Where is all thy love? Who has stolen it from me?
Faust. Come! Follow!... Be courageous, loved one! Come with me!
Gretchen. Thou art loosening my chain.... Know'st thou, my friend, whom thou art releasing?
Faust. Come, come! Night is already on the wane.
Gretchen. My mother I have killed. I have drowned my child. Was it not given to thee and to me? Yes, to thee too.... And thou art really here! Thou! I can scarce believe it. Give me thy hand—thy dear hand! Ah, but it is wet. Wipe it, wipe it! It looks like blood upon it. O God, what hast thou done! Put up thy sword, I beg thee! Put it away!
Faust. Let the past be past. Thou art killing me.
Gretchen. No—thou must live!... I will tell thee about the graves that thou must provide to-morrow. Give mother the best place, and brother close to her—and me a little on one side ... only not too far away. And lay the little one in my bosom.... No one else shall lie with me. To cling to thy side, that was once such sweet blissful joy ... but I seem no longer able ... as if I had to force myself, and as if thou didst thrust me back.... And yet it is thou, and thou look'st so kind and good.
Faust. If thou feel'st that it is I, then come!
Gretchen. Out there?