It overcomes me in such degree,
That wheresoe’er he meets us, even,
I feel as though I’d lost my love for thee.
When he is by, I could not pray to Heaven.
That burns within me like a flame,
And surely, Henry, ’tis with thee the same.
FAUST
There, now, is thine antipathy!
MARGARET
But I must go.
FAUST
Ah, shall there never be
A quiet hour, to see us fondly plighted,
With breast to breast, and soul to soul united?
MARGARET
Ah, if I only slept alone!
I’d draw the bolts to-night, for thy desire;
But mother’s sleep so light has grown,
And if we were discovered by her,
’Twould be my death upon the spot!